


The Chamber of Secrets

by SharaRaizel



Series: The Fullmetal Wizard [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2843720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharaRaizel/pseuds/SharaRaizel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's spent a year in the world of magic and wizards and muggles now. Join Edward as he continues to teach alchemy at Hogwarts, searching for a way home to Amestris. But will he be able to continue when a new threat appears at the school targeting muggle-borns?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hohenheim

Edward found himself taking early morning walks through the German countryside daily, enjoying the rolling hills, fresh air, and panoramic mountain views that could be seen everywhere in the low valley where the Flamels had their vacation home. He felt at peace during these times. So much so, in fact, that for a while on these walks he could pretend that he was back home in Resembool, and that the town was just out of sight beyond the next hill. 

He’d finally taken the vacation that the staff at Hogwarts had offered him. When he’d first arrived in Germany at the Flamel’s home via Floo powder – now  _ that _ had been an interesting experience – Perenelle had been a lovely host and showed him around the house and out to the local village, recommending other towns and villages he might like to visit – wizard and muggle alike.

He’d done a bit of the typical tourist experience and visited Berlin and Stuttgart and a couple other muggle cities and towns before investigating the wizarding world half of the country. It was funny, really how at home he felt. Muggle cities and especially the smaller towns reminded him so much of Amestris that it made him feel both at home, and miss home even more. The wizarding world half reminded him just how far away from home he really was, but it was nice to explore his surroundings and learn a little more about the wizarding culture.

When he wasn’t exploring the country, he stayed in with the Flamels and helped around the house when he could – at least, whenever Perenelle actually allowed him to help. They were all waiting for Hohenheim, hoping he’d join them all in time for the summer solstice. The local wizarding town liked to hold a bonfire on the valley lakeshore and celebrate the holiday with plenty of dance, food and alcohol – typically with good nettle wine. A traditional wedding or two were typically held during the solstice and the preparations for the celebrations this year were in full swing already as they were only a couple days away by this time. 

Edward was just finishing his walk that morning when we saw a stooped figure sitting on top of the hill between him and the Flamel house. He didn’t realize who it was until he was mere meters away.

“…It’s about time you showed up,” he grunted, coming to stand next to the figure. “I was starting to wonder if you’d ever make it.”

“Hello, Edward,” Van Hohenheim said softly. “It’s been a long time. You’ve grown since I last saw you.”

Edward squinted, trying to see under the hood of his father’s battered and worn traveling cloak. He was old. Hohenheim actually looked old. That was a surprise… and yet it wasn’t. The old man had not moved on and taken a new body, as he’d said he wouldn’t after he met and fell in love with Edward’s mother.

“Are you dying, too?” Edward asked with a sigh, plopping down on the grassy knoll to join his father.

“Maybe,” Hohenheim said. “I never took any of the Stone’s elixir and my immortality was taken from me when I passed through the gate this time. Time is finally catching up to me. How I’ve even managed to continue living this long I’m not sure, but I’d hoped to see you and Alphonse one last time before the end…”

Edward swallowed, not knowing how to feel. He’d spent most of his life hating this bastard but now… now he was actually sad to learn that he could be dying.

“…I’m teaching alchemy at Hogwarts,” he blurted.

“Really?” Hohenheim smiled.

“Yeah… And I’m using one of your books on alchemy to teach them,” Edward continued. “Everything else in this world on the subject is either complete rubbish or a knock off of what you’ve written under the name of Dr. Licht.”

Hohenheim chuckled. “Is that so? How are the classes going?” he asked, curious.

And so Edward spent the rest of his morning telling his father about the past year; about the students he taught, his fellow staff members, his adventures with Harry Potter and Severus Snape, and about how angry he’d been about what had happened because of Flamel’s Philosopher’s Stone. And when he was finished talking about all of that, he told Hohenheim what he’d missed back home in Amestris and how the battle with the homunculi had gone and how he’d ended up waking in this world and time until he couldn’t think of anything else to talk about. And Hohenheim just kept smiling, listening to him talk and asked questions here or there if he wanted to know more about something.

It felt so surreal to have an actual conversation that didn’t involve him shouting at the man. And for the first time since he was a little kid… since before Hohenheim had left, he felt a connection to the man he’d once called Father… Dad… Daddy. Maybe it was the peace of the German countryside, or the fact that he’d grown up a bit more and better understood his father and why things had been the way they were and are… For once, he didn’t hate Hohenheim. For once, they were at peace and not at odds. Edward found himself reluctant to ask what he wanted to know now.

“…How long?”

“Until I die?”

Edward nodded, glad his father understood without needing to hear the words.

“Oh… a bit longer than Nicolas and Perenelle I think,” Hohenheim mused. “Could be months… could be years before I finally die. I’m bound by mortal constraints now. It’s funny, actually growing old. I didn’t think I’d ever get to experience that. I figure I’m about 90 give or take a few years. The average healthy wizard lives to be 118 typically.”

“Is that how old Dumbledore is?” Edward could help but ask, smirking as he thought of the wizen old headmaster who’d hired him. 

“He’s actually 154,” Hohenheim chuckled.

“Ah,” Edward snorted. He felt strangely relieved to hear that his father wasn’t going to kick the bucket just yet. “Then you’ll probably be around for a few more decades.”

“Perhaps,” Hohenheim chuckled. 

 

Edward had one of the best days he’d had in a long time. Like the conversation he’d had with his father that morning, it continued to feel surreal having what could be considered a nice afternoon and evening with his father and the Flamels. There was a lot of chatting, catching up, good food, drink, and games. Dumbledore even made a surprise visit, saying he’d be with them until after the Solstice. Being with all these old people, though, and being with his father again, made him feel like a little kid and he really began to miss his little brother, Alphonse. 

Alphonse had always wanted to seek out and reconnect with Hohenheim. And yet it was Edward who was reacquainting himself with their father and getting that second chance his brother had wanted and may never have. Of course some things about Hohenheim still pissed him off like his passive attitude and the way he sometimes said things – he’d tried not to growl too much and start an angry rant when they all started talking about the Philosopher’s Stone, but Edward was too happy being with someone from his old world and his old life again after living in this new world without a familiar face for a year. He made an effort to try to ignore the things that normally set him off when it came to his father. Alphonse would have wanted them to get along. And, honestly, when he wasn’t trying to find flaw and hate the man… Edward found that they were more alike than he was comfortable admitting. And maybe that was the problem. They were too alike for their own good.

When the day of the Solstice was upon them they all headed over to the local village that afternoon. Edward took in the sight of ribbons and streamers decorating the main street, children running about playing games and adults walking about chatting amiably as they shopped at all the stores holding sales and some of the special booths vendors had out selling all sorts of goodies for the holiday – things from baked goods to sparklers and fireworks, chairs, ribbons, poppers, and all sorts of festive treats and things Edward didn’t know what they did or even were, to use at the bonfire that night. Musicians played in the streets with dancers flitting about for the spectators’ entertainment. A puppet master had a stand and was performing plays for little children. They’d all stopped to watch a few. Edward wasn’t familiar with this world’s fairytales but according to Perenelle, he was telling a collection of muggle fairytales and wizard ones.

Edward stuck close to Perenelle in the market and watched her buy a few trinkets and baked goods from some of the street vendors. She gave Edward something called a blueberry crepe. It was delicious and apparently a muggle confection that had become popular in the wizarding world. 

Dumbledore found a vendor selling festive wooly socks and other woolen items and bought three pairs. Edward caught Hohenheim’s eye. His father rolled his eyes, made a face at the old headmaster’s taste in apparel and shrugged his shoulders.  They shared a smile and Edward tried his best not to snicker. He was going to have to remember to get Dumbledore socks for Christmas this year. The tackier the better it seemed. Maybe he’d find some in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. 

As the day stretched on and the sun finally began to sink, people started heading towards the lake. Edward could see where a wedding was taking place off on a nearby hill, and watched as people started setting up the reception area in a corner of the cleared space down at the lake that had been set up for the bonfire. A humongous dance floor was magicked into existence in the center along the lake and before the bonfire pit. As the sunlight dimmed, orbs were magicked into the air, with flickering mini fires burning inside. Rows of tables and full round barrels of wine and beer lined the outskirts of the space and a great many tables meant to host the entire village – and then some, were scattered all around the lake.

Just as the last traces of the sun was going down behind the mountains the wedding ended and their party came down to join the village in time to light the bonfire. It ignited with a loud  _ WHOOSH!  _ Then the local band began to play, toasts were made to the newly married couple, dancers swarmed the dance floor and hungry villagers flocked to the buffet tables. Edward and his elderly company were part of the later. Nickolas paid for their group and Edward piled his plate high with everything that looked appetizing. 

“Still a growing boy,” Hohenheim chuckled.

“Shut it, grandpa,” Edward muttered around a bread roll as they headed off to find a table to sit at, ignoring his father’s more modest and smaller serving.

“The food isn’t going anywhere, Edward,” Nickolas laughed when he saw Edward’s plate.

“Oh hush,” Perenelle said, slapping her husband lightly on the shoulder. “The boy’s still growing. You yourself had a voracious appetite at his age.”

Dumbledore and Hohenheim chuckled.

Edward ignored them, digging into his meal, trying and savoring everything, and mentally catalogued which foods he liked and wanted seconds of, and those he didn’t care for and would avoid later.

Once the sky was black with the moon out and was full of stars, an old wizen wizard in grey robes announced the start of the fireworks display. Minutes later the night was ablaze with fireworks the likes of which Edward had never seen before.

“Magic is amazing,” Edward thought to himself as he watched a huge said-to-be-life-size dragon firework take to the heavens and set the sky alight with multi colored sparks and flares it shot at firework knights and wizards, painting an epic moving picture in the air.

Once the fireworks were done with, all the younger families with little children headed home and more alcohol was brought out. Dancing resumed and drunken antics began. Edward watched the various villagers mill about, some in drunken fun and others in dancing frenzy. He noticed a gaggle of young witches between the ages of 18 and 22 watching the dancers, and a group of young wizard lads around the same age range watching them, some elbowing and nudging each other, encouraging their friends to ask one of the ladies to dance. Edward found this amusing, seeing some men make it halfway to the girls, only to turn and hurry back to his fellows when the girls spotted him. Of those brave enough to actually go up to the girls and ask for a dance or ten, most usually left for the dance floor with the lady of his fancy. Some got shot down by their wanted dance partner, but their offer was always taken by another of the girls.

Edward noticed that most if not all of those later lads had tried to ask a rather fetching looking blonde girl with bright blue eyes and a heart shaped face with full pouty lips. She was the loveliest lady among her friends, though it wasn’t because they weren’t beautiful. Most of the girls had plenty of the right kind of curves boys tended to ogle at, lean fit bodies, and fair hair and complexions. Most were actually taller and more willowy that the other girl. There was just something more that set this particular young woman apart from the others. Edward just couldn’t put his finger on it. At a simple glance she looked no different from the other beauties, but on any following glance your eye was always drawn to her for some reason.

“That’s Anja,” Perenelle said, making him jump.

He hadn’t realized that he’d been staring at the girl.

“She’s the village’s treasure, or so all the young lads say,” the old woman grinned. 

“Her mother is half Vila, so she has a certain… lure, that the others young maids don’t,” Nikolas added.

“Why don’t you ask her to dance?” Hohenheim suggested.

Edward narrowed his eyes at his father. “No thanks.”

“Oh, go on, Edward,” Dumbledore said. “You don’t need to sit with us old codgers all night. You are young. Go! Have fun! Act like the teenager you are and ask one of those lovely ladies for a dance.”

“I feel like I’ve just been banished,” Edward muttered, getting up from their table. But rather than join the foolish young men around his age, he headed to the tables serving alcohol and ordered a beer. 

For the heck of it – and because his nuisance of a father and nosy Dumbledore were still watching him – he started up a conversation with one of the lads at the bar. He turned out to be the best man and the groom’s eldest brother from the wedding party. They spoke about this and that. Well, it was mainly the other man that did the talking and Edward the listening, both of them people watching – mostly the group of boys and girls on the opposite end of the dance floor. 

The man’s name was Henrik, and he knew everyone from the village it seemed, able to name everyone they were watching. It was kind of funny to get a running commentary on Gregory’s many attempts to ask the lovely Anja out, Nathan’s secret crush on Jennifer even though he always asked Gina to dance instead, how his sister Merida’s attempts to attract Peter’s attention seem to have finally won her a dance with him with hopes of dating come the following days, etc. 

While Henrik was telling Edward about Erik’s latest of many hilarious and unorthodox attempts to woo Anja, a commotion started over by the group of girls still waiting to be asked to dance. An older looking man in perhaps his late twenties had approached Anja and was demanding that she dance with him. They were attracting more attention from those in the immediate area.

“Get lost, Manny,” Anja said crossly, her high voice sounding melodic. 

“Great,” Henrik groaned. “Just great. Manson is drunk again. Normally he’s a quiet kind of guy, but he’d been hitting the booze more and more lately.”

“Village idiot?” Edward asked, eyebrow rising as Manson tried again to convince Anja to dance with him.

“Something like that,” Henrik muttered. “More like the village tough guy. He’s muggle born and though we’ve never held it against him, he feels the need to prove he’s tough and as capable as any one of us magic born. Guy’s a sad story. Usually nice and easy to get along with but once he hits the bottle…”

“You pity him,” Edward said softly.

“Hey!”

Edward and Henrik rose from their seats and hurried over to the growing conflict meters away. Manson had grabbed Anja by the arm and was trying to drag her off with him.

“Let go! Manny! Manson! Let me go!”

Manson was bigger and a lot taller than the young woman, so her struggles had little to no effect on him.

“Hey! Manny!” Henrik said, getting in front of the guy. “Take it easy, buddy! She’s not in the mood to dance okay? Why don’t we lay off the vodka and get you home, okay?”

Manson’s response was to shove Henrik out of his way, sending the poor guy tripping backwards and over a nearby table. The couple sitting at that table cried out in alarm, backing away at first before rushing to Henrik’s aid.

“Bad move, pal,” Edward said, getting in front of the guy. Bastard was easily a head taller than Edward.

“Get out of my way, shrimp,” Manson huffed, moving to shove Edward aside as easily has he had Henrik, but Edward was waiting for it.

Edward grabbed Manson’s wrist allowing the bigger guy’s momentum to carry him forward and compromise his footing. Edward sent him sprawling, the surprise making the big guy let Anja go as he tried to brace himself as he fell to his knees. Anja quickly hurried back and out of reach. Manson was really angry now. When he regained his feet he took a swing at Edward, many of the people nearby crying out in alarm at the violence, giving them a wide berth. Edward easily deflected the blow again, body tense and loose at the same time as he fell into a fighter’s crouch and fought back, ticked off at being called a shrimp. He didn’t take it easy on the drunk, knocking his sorry ass back and into one of the chairs after trading a series of blows. Manson wasn’t a bad fighter, even when drunk, but he didn’t have the experience Edward did, and it showed.

Being quick he clapped his hands together and transmuted the chair and some of the ground so that it would hold him. Manson struggled, yelling and shouting curses at Edward until Henrik came up from behind and doused the guy with a barrel full of lake water. That seemed to sober the guy up a bit. Once he cooled down, Edward released him and Henrik and some of his friends took Manson home. After a while the festivities resumed, though many looked at Edward whenever they passed by him.

Edward himself grumbled a bit once the drama was over and returned to where he and Henrik had been drinking, the man tending the bar giving him a fresh cold beer when he sat down. Edward nodded to him in thanks. He hadn’t even taken one sip before someone spoke to him, though.

“Thank you.”

Edward looked up and saw Anja, for once without company. 

“It was nothing.” Edward shrugged. “Would have done the same to any other wise ass making trouble.”

“Regardless, thank you. Those were some impressive moves,” Anja said, taking Henrik’s seat across from him. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Nope,” Edward said, taking another sip of his beer. “Not from anywhere really.”

“Are you a traveler?”

“Something like that.”

“So young?”

Edward shrugged.

“…Would you care to dance?”

Edward’s tankard stopped halfway up to his lips. This girl had been turning boys down left and right all night. Why ask  _ him _ of all people to dance?

“…I’m not much of a dancer,” he said, taking another sip of his beer to hide a blush.

“Somehow I doubt that.” Anja smiled. “Come on. Just one?”

It was hard to say no to someone that beautiful, especially when she fluttered her eyelashes at him. He downed the rest of his beer and with a sigh, rose to his feet and allowed her to drag him onto the dance floor. He felt awkward and as if he had two left feet for a moment before getting used of dancing to the music’s beat. Anja was a great dancer and teacher, helping him through the steps. After one dance Anja somehow talked him into another, and then three more, and before he knew it, he and Anja were dancing with a group participating in this old traditional kind of formal dance. Anja and her friends whispered instructions to him as they went, trading partners and twirling and stamping their feet to the beat. Maybe it was the beer, but Edward found himself having a grand old time, grinning like a fool, dancing and laughing and swaying, as the night became early morning. 

He finally managed to bow out of anymore dancing and excused himself from Anja’s company. She seemed disappointed, but after Edward said that he’d see her around, she smiled and waved him off. When he returned to the table he’d left his father, the Flamels and Dumbledore at, only Hohenheim remained.

“Had fun, son?” 

“You look more like my grandfather these days than my Dad, you know,” Edward sighed, taking a seat. Oww… his foot hurt and his flesh port ached. 

Hohenheim chuckled. “Dumbledore has returned to London,” he reported, “and Nickolas and Perenelle retired hours ago, shortly after your little scuffle with Manson.”

Edward nodded, figuring as much.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me, you know,” he sighed. “I’m eighteen now, have grown up living and traveling without adult supervision for ages, and I know my way back to the cottage.”

Hohenheim sighed. “I know, Edward. I didn’t stay here to keep an eye on you. I was here because I was happy and content to see you have fun. Back in Amestris you were always so serious; more adult than the child you should have been and for that I will always be sorry. Sorry that I wasn’t there even though I wanted to be with you boys and your mother. I stayed away to protect you from Dante, but you got involved anyway.”

Edward grit his teeth. He didn’t want to start a fight with Hohenheim. They’d been getting along just fine the last couple of days. And the words he wanted to say were words that had already been said anyway.

“You’re looking for a way back, are you not, my son?” Hohenheim asked. “A way back to Amestris?”

Edward looked over at his father, eyes narrowing.

“Dumbledore told me,” Hohenheim explained. “He asked if I knew of a way back through the gate.”

“…And?” Edward prompted when his father didn’t continue.

“None that I have found,” Hohenheim said softly, gazing at the bonfire. “And I have spent decades trying to see if it were possible to return to Amestris. Maybe not as actively as I could have been, but any possible lead that popped up I pursued and met only dead ends. The gate was not meant to be opened from this side. Alchemy is weaker here, if you haven’t yet noticed. It didn’t really exist in a sense before I came along and stumbled upon the hidden world of magic. Very few wizards have been able to tap into and fully utilize the full potential that alchemy has to offer. It takes a great Alchemist to do so.”

Edward nodded, his spirits sinking. If Hohenheim hadn’t found a way…

“But,” his father said, suddenly smiling at him. “I am old, Edward. I am not the powerful alchemist I used to be. Have not been since I faced Dante that last time and wound up here. But you, Edward… You are young and strong, and are becoming a greater man than I ever was. I saw you use alchemy to restrain Manson. Your abilities have remained intact even though you came through Truth’s gate twice. If anyone can find a way back to Amestris… it is you, son.”

Edward stared. He was… touched. Conflicted, but touched. His father might as well have said that he was destined for great things.

“Nickolas has written up a new will,” Hohenheim told him, suddenly changing the subject. “He and his wife, Perenelle, are leaving everything they have to you. Their fortune, their houses, Nickolas’ research, the works.”

“WHAT?!” Edward gasped. “Why? I mean – we hardly know each other! We’re practically strangers.”

“Because you are the alchemist of the future.” Hohenheim smiled. “The Flamels have no living descendants. Their last great grandchild was killed in the last wizard war against Voldemort and they were already old when Nickolas finally succeeded in creating his first Philosopher’s Stone. The stone can help you live forever, but even it cannot save its possessor from fatal wounds or the Killing Curse. It merely stops the aging process. But even then the body begins to wear down.”

“That’s why you and Dante changed bodies every thousand years or so,” Edward muttered.

Hohenheim nodded solemnly. 

“But still,” Edward said, feeling overwhelmed, “why me? Why not you?”

Hohenheim chuckled. “I would have passed it all on to you anyway.”

Edward huffed.

“Nickolas as a millennium's worth of notes and research in his possession, Edward,” Hohenheim said. “Research that might help you find a way home and back to Alphonse and Miss Winry. I was planning on giving you my works as well. I’ll leave it for you at Nickolas’ London residence.  It’s where he keeps most of his work as well.”

“Yeah, okay,” Edward said, nodding. “Let’s head back now. It’s late. All old geezers like yourself should be in bed sleeping.”

Hohenheim smiled and rose from his seat, following his son back to the Flamel’s cottage.


	2. Lockhart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, has it really been 2 years TO THE DAY since I posted the first chapter of this Chamber of Secrets fic? So sorry chaps! I have received so many requests to continue with this story over the last couple of years, so I hope you'll forgive me that I'm only getting back to it now. It's not as long as I'd like, but I hope you enjoy it all the same and hopefully I won't make you wait another year or two for another chapter. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! May it be better than the last one. :P

Edward spent the remaining days of his vacation in Germany at the Flamel’s summer cottage even after Hohenheim departed. He took to visiting the village often (due to Perenelle’s encouragement) to see Anja, who worked in the local bakery/cafe that was owned by her parents. He found that he rather liked spending time there with her and her friends. He found Anja’s parents rather nice too.

Her mother, Maria, was just as beautiful as her daughter and Edward found it amazing how unaffected Anja’s father, Ewan, acted around her. Most of the men stared starry-eyed whenever Anja or Maria were around, but Ewan treated them no different than he did any other woman or maid that came into the cafe. Edward envied him because in spite of his best attempts, he still found his mind going fuzzy on him whenever Anja gave him a bright smile or brushed against him as she passed by. He tried to be objective, but knew that he was just as affected by her charm as the others were.

Unfortunately his time in Germany came to an end all too soon and Edward needed to return to Hogwarts to study up for another Ministry Evaluation so that he’d be able to continue teaching. Anja was sad to hear that he was leaving, but he promised to write her and that he would come visit her next summer since he was going to inherit the Flamel’s summer cottage.

It was nice to be back at Hogwarts, however. Minerva and Severus were back at the school as well, to help him finish reviewing the last of the course work that he hadn’t managed to get to before term had started last summer, and drilled him over everything that he might need to know to pass the evaluation. His studies weren’t quite as intense as they had been last summer, but the weeks still seemed to pass by rather quickly. It felt like no time at all before it was the first week of August and the representatives from the Ministry were there. They came earlier than they had last year because Edward wasn’t learning what amounted to 7 years worth of a magical education. It was the same two witches from before, but this time a few of the School Governors were in attendance as well.

Edward did his best to ignore their presence while the Ministry Witches put him through the paces of the examination. He passed with flying colors once more and was granted license to another year’s position of Student Teacher. If he passed his evaluation at the end of the year, he’d be able to take the exam for an official teaching license and apply for a full time teaching position at Hogwarts.

The Hogwarts staff congratulated him and threw a party that evening. It was at dinner that Dumbledore introduced Edward to School Governors Richard Knightly, Alexandre Dreggle, and Lucius Malfoy. Edward found that he liked Knightly and Dreggle a lot, but Malfoy, much like his young son, was a bit of a stuck up prick. He did his best not to offend any of them and, at Dumbledore’s manipulation, ended up giving a short Alchemy lesson during dessert after Mr. Malfoy questioned Edward’s ability to teach what was considered a complex subject. All three were especially impressed when Edward transmuted his goblet into gold and back again.

Mr. Malfoy seemed to think better of him when Severus butted in and gave Edward a somewhat glowing recommendation, even though a lot of his compliments were given in a backhanded manner. That started a bit of snarky banter between them, but the School Governors seemed more amused than anything else at the interaction. At the end of the meal, Mr. Malfoy said that he hoped that his son would elect to take Edward’s Alchemy class his third year. Edward sincerely hoped not, but knew that he wouldn’t have a say one way or another. It was the kid’s decision and maybe (a tiny speck of a maybe, mind you) young Malfoy would prove to be less of a pain in the ass as he got older.

The subject of conversation that night between Edward, Severus and Minerva, was the topic of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher. Apparently Dumbledore had been struggling to find someone to fill Quirrell's position all summer, but had gotten someone to agree at last. Minerva and Severus were less than thrilled with the choice, however. And if they were both in agreement, then the new instructor really had to be awful.

“His name is Gilderoy Lockhart,” Minerva said, lips pursed in a severe thin line. “A fine wizard, I’m sure, if his books are to be believed, but he’s a glory hound.”

“Fame has clearly gone to his head,” Severus growled. “His books read more like works of fiction than actual autobiographical accounts.”

“Perhaps he just embellishes a good amount. Surely someone has done their homework and checked up on Lockhart’s exploits,” Edward said, frowning as he flipped through the collection of said man’s books that he’d been given to review. “He saved a lot of towns according to these. The people there had to have backed up his claims.”

“They did,” Minerva sighed. Severus snorted derisively, but didn’t comment further.

“He can’t be that bad,” Edward said, slamming the last book shut.

Minerva and Severus both winced and Edward knew right then that he was in trouble that year.

“Shit. I have to work with the man for a whole year,” Edward groaned, putting his head down on his desk.

Severus gave him a look that amounted to a sympathetic smile, while Minerva patted his head pityingly.

 

The next few days saw Edward writing up his class syllabuses and book lists. He was sticking with the textbook he had chosen last year and had to shuffle his returning students into two sections instead of the three he had last year to make room for a 1st year class that the new section of 3rd year and the few 4-7 year students (a surprising number of them were Slytherin) that had elected to try his class. Students taking the 2nd year course in Alchemy would be allowed to attempt making transmutations, so Edward found himself writing up lesson plans several months early in order to give the students that had potential plenty of opportunities. Hohenheim had warned him that many of his students wouldn’t be able to transmute anything due to this world’s lack of alchemy in comparison to Amestris, so he had to be sure he still had plenty of theory to build up from. Maybe once he learned which students had an aptitude for transmutation, he could create a special class section or club for them to begin practicing practical alchemy.

Once he had everything approved by Dumbledore he sent his list off to McGonagall so that she could send the school book lists out to the students. After that, Edward took the time to write to Anja about how things were going for him at the school and enjoyed a few days roaming the castle halls and grounds, visiting Hagrid, and helping Pomona in her green houses. It was while he was helping move potted baby mandrakes to Green House 3 that Hagrid came asking Pomona if she had any Flesh Eating Slug Repellant on hand.

“They’re ruinin’ the cabbages,” Hagrid had bemoaned. “And who knows what else? The pumpkins are only just startin’ ta come in as well.”

“I’m afraid I’m all out, Hagrid,” Pomona sighed, as she looked the handful of cabbages Hagrid had brought her for examination. “You’ll just have to go get some at Diagon Alley.”

“Figured,” Hagrid grumbled. “Just thought I’d check in with ya first an’ see if I could save meself a trip.”

“If you want, Hagrid, I could go with you,” Edward said. “I need to pick some things up for my classes.”

“Great,” the big man beamed. “How’s ‘bout ta-morrow mornin’ at 9?”

“Sounds good. I’ll meet you at your hut.”

The next morning Edward met Hagrid and together they walked to Hogsmeade where they took a portkey to the Leaky Cauldron. Edward didn’t like it any better than he had last year, but it was the only way Hagrid could really travel. The man was too big to fit in most chimneys, so Flooing was out, neither of them liked brooms (Hagrid was, again, too big for them), and Hagrid couldn’t apparate. Edward was still new to apparating too (having only learned how to do so for his Ministry examination), so he didn’t feel comfortable yet with trying to bring Hagrid along.

From the Leaky Cauldron the two made their way to the local herbalist’s shop. Unfortunately, the little witch that ran the shop was currently out of the type of Slug Repellant that Hagrid was in need of. Nothing she had in her current stores was strong enough.

“Damn,” Hagrid grumble. “I’ve got no luck this week. We’re gonna have ta try Knockturn Alley.”

“Knockturn Alley?” Edward repeated with a frown.

“Aye,” Hagrid grunted, leading the way to a dimly lit street off the beaten path of Diagon Alley. It was a dingy sort of place. Edward didn’t like that most of the shops they passed seemed to be devoted to the Dark Arts. There were shrunken heads in many windows, shabby looking witches and wizards skulking about, and quite a few stores advertising poisons. Edward held his tongue though, as he followed Hagrid into one of the shops. The wizard behind the counter looked shifty, but with Hagrid growling at him (and actually looking intimidating while doing it) he forked over the stuff Hagrid wanted, practically snatching the money off the counter after Hagrid set it down.

“What a pleasant place you’ve brought us to,” Edward quipped as they headed back towards Diagon Alley.

Hagrid only glowered, but was soon distracted by something happening to their left down another alley.

“Not lost are you, my dear?” an aged witch was asking a soot covered boy who looked a little familiar to Edward.

“I’m fine, thanks,” the boy said, voice nervous sounding. “I’m just-”

Hagrid was off like a shot.

“HARRY! What d’yeh think yer doin’ down there?” he thundered.

Of course! The boy was Harry Potter, a student Edward had befriended during the last school year. The kid was certainly a trouble magnet.

“Hagrid!” the boy cried, looking relieved. “I was lost - Floo powder-”

Hagrid didn’t let him say anymore, seizing the kid by the scruff of his neck like one would a misbehaving kitten and pulled him away from the witch, knocking a tray of whatever it was she was selling out of her hands. Her shrieks followed them out of the alley. Edward jogged to keep up since Hagrid didn’t stop until they were out of the twisting paths of Knockturn Alley and in the bright sunlit Diagon Alley. Gringotts Bank’s white marble building glistened in the distance.

“Yer a mess!” Hagrid said gruffly as he set Harry down and began taking swipes at the boy in his attempts to brush the soot off. His actions were so forceful he almost sent Harry into a barrel of dragon dung outside of an apothecary.

“I realize that,” the boy huffed, ducking as Hagrid made to brush him off again. “I _told_ you I was lost - what were you doing down there, anyway?”

“Allow me, Hagrid,” Edward laughed, waving his wand and hitting Harry with a cleaning spell. Then a repair charm when he noticed Harry’s cracked glasses lense.

“Edward?!” Harry gasped.

“ _We_ was lookin’ fer a Flesh-Eatin’ Slug Repellent,” growled Hagrid.

“They’re ruining the school cabbages,” Edward added before frowning. “You’re not here on your own are you?”

“I’m staying with the Weasleys but we got separated,” Harry explained. “I’ve got to go find them…”

“Say no more,” Edward chuckled. “Why don’t we try Gringotts? Everyone’s gotta go get money before school shoping, don’t they?”

“Tha’s a good idea, Ed,” Hagrid said as they set off down the street together towards the bank. “How come yeh never wrote back ter me?” he asked Harry.

Edward was used to maintaining a brisk pace in order to keep up with the man’s large gait, but Harry had to jog alongside them. The boy scowled and proceeded to tell them about a demented house else named Dobby that had been holding back Harry’s mail and the trouble it had caused with Harry’s awful relatives, who’d locked him in his room afterwards, and how Harry’s (and Edward’s) friend, Ron Weasley, rescued him with help from his twin brothers, Fred and George.

“Lousy Muggles,” growled Hagrid. “If I’d’ve known-”

“Harry! Harry! Over here! Edward?!”

The three looked up and saw Hermione Granger (another student Edward and Harry had befriended last school year) standing at the top of the steps to Gringotts. She ran down to meet them, her bushy brown hair flying behind her.

“Hello, Hagrid. Oh, it’s so wonderful to see you three again. Are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?”

“As soon as I’ve found the Weasley’s,” Harry said.

“That won’t be long,” Edward said, smiling in amusement when he saw a crowd of four red haired boys following a balding, tired looking redhead man who could only be their father.

“Harry,” Mr. Weasley panted. “We hoped you’d only gone one grate too far. Molly’s frantic - she’s coming now-”

“Where did you come out?” Ron asked.

“Knockturn Alley,” Hagrid said grimly.

“Excellent!” said Fred and George together.

“We’ve never been allowed in,” said Ron, sounding enviously.

“Don’t know why you’d want to,” Edward huffed, amused in spite of himself, at the same time Hagrid growled, “I should ruddy well think not.”

That was when a red haired motherly looking woman came galloping into view, her handbag swinging wildly in one hand while a little girl, who could only be Ron’s little sister, Ginny, clung to the other.

“Oh, Harry - oh, my dear - you could have been anywhere-”

“Well, gotta be off,” Hagrid said, trying to take his hand back from Mr Weasley who was shaking it as he tried to express his gratitude for having found Harry. “Ed? Ya comin’ er stayin’?”

“I still have those things to get for my class,” Edward said. “I’ll just stay with this rabble and keep an eye on Harry. Make sure he doesn’t end up lost again. And I need to make a withdraw here anyway.”

“Ah, right. Ya don’t mind if I ah…” Hagrid chuckled, rubbing the back of his head before leaving when Edward waved him off.

“Lovely,” Mrs. Weasley said, “And thank you so much for helping Harry, Mr…?”

“Oh! Mum, Dad, this is Edward Elric,” Ron said.

“You’re the Edward the boys have been talking about all summer?” Mr. Weasley asked, looking surprised.

“They haven’t said anything too bad, I hope,” Edward said, shaking the man’s hand.

“Quite the opposite actually,” Mrs Weasley said, smiling, before indicating that they should probably head inside.

“Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?” Edward heard Harry ask Ron and Hermione as they started climbing up the steps to Gringotts. “Malfoy and his father.”

“Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?” Mr. Weasley asked sharply, making Edward raise his eyebrow at his tone.

“No, he was selling,” Harry started to say.

“So he’s worried,” Mr. Weasley cut off with grim satisfaction. “Oh, I’d love to get Lucius Malfoy for something.”

“You be careful Arthur,” Mrs. Weasley said sharply as they were bowed into the bank by the goblin at the door. “That family is trouble. Don’t go biting off more than you can chew.”

“You don’t think I’m a match for Lucius Malfoy?” asked Mr. Weasley indignantly, but was distracted when he spotted a couple standing nervously at the counter that ran all along the great marble hall of the bank. They were clearly Hermione’s parents, due to the strong resemblance Hermione had to both of them. Though she clearly took after her mother, she had her father’s bushy hair and bright smile.

“But you’re Muggles!” Mr. Weasley said delightedly, his demeanor completely changed. “We must have a drink! What’s that you’ve got there? Oh, you’re changing Muggle money. Molly, look!” He pointed excitedly at the ten-pound notes in Mr. Granger’s hand.

Edward snickered, amused.

The Weasleys and Harry presented their key’s to another of the tellers while Edward moved on to the next one. He handed the key Dumbledore had procured for him for the account he’d opened after hiring Edward last summer. The goblin took the key in a bored fashion, before he suddenly became very attentive.

“You said your name is Edward Elric, yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” Edward said slowly.

“Wait here for a minute please,” said the goblin. “There’ve been a few requests and actions taken concerning your account.”

Edward stared in amazement as the goblin scurried off into the office behind the counter.

“Is something wrong, Edward?” Harry asked.

“Not sure,” he sighed. “Harry, why don’t you and the Weasleys go on ahead and get your money and I’ll wait back here with the Grangers. Hopefully this won’t take long.

Harry and the Weasleys hesitated but did just that while Edward waited for the goblin to reappear. The Grangers had their money exchanged by the time Edward’s goblin teller returned with another goblin in tow.

“Mr. Elric,” the new goblin said. “My name is Galrok. May I speak with you for a moment?”

“Sure,” Edward said before he followed the Goblins around the counter to an office. He told Hermione and her parents that if he wasn’t back before Harry and the Weasley’s returned, he’d meet them at Flourish and Blotts.

“Is there a problem with my account?” Edward asked.

“On the contrary,” Galrok said as they entered the room. “We’ve received notice from the Flamels that you are their heir and wondered if you wanted to merge your accounts with theirs. Mr. Van Licht, your grandfather, has just done so with his. He says you’re his heir as well and that the merged accounts should be registered under your name.”

Edward paused just inside the room when he saw Hoenheim seated at the table.

“Edward.”

“Gramps,” Edward sighed. Today was just getting ridiculous.

Thankfully it was only another twenty minutes before Edward got the accounts merged, the paperwork sorted, and a full bag of gold withdrawn from his new vault. The Goblins were very efficient that way. He had been rather stunned to see the wealth that the Flamels had amassed during their long existence. It was was probably the oldest, largest, deepest vault in the bank and was filled practically to the brim with riches and artifacts that went back centuries. His teacher's salary was a pittance compared to the wealth in there. He couldn’t imagine adding Hohenheim's small fortune to the amount as well, but by merging the Flamel, Licht, and Elric accounts, Edward found himself coming into quite the inheritance.

Hoenheim decided to join him for the day as they exited the vault and found the Granger and Weasley parents waiting for him outside. All of the kids apart from little Ginny were gone.

“You really didn’t have to wait,” Edward said.

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Weasley tutted.

“We’ve not been waiting long,” Mrs. Granger added. “The Weasleys only returned five minutes ago.”

“And who is this, Mr. Elric?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“Please, call me Edward,” Edward said before gesturing to his elderly father. “This is my grandfather, Dr. Van Licht.”

“A doctor, huh?” Mr. Granger said, smiling. “And what is your doctorate in, sir?”

“Alchemy,” Hoenheim said. “In the muggle world, it would probably be the equivalent of having an applied sciences degree.”

They accompanied the Weasley parents as they went about purchasing items for Ginny’s first year at Hogwarts. Edward was happy to talk to her and reassured her that the classes weren’t as hard as her brothers had been making them out to be. It helped that he was a student teacher and that he’d be in all sections of Defense Against the Dark Arts, meaning that she already knew one of her teachers. She felt a lot better after that.

Edward could tell that the Weasleys were hurting for money, so Edward managed to be sneaky and purchase a lot of the girl’s supplies for her, mostly by having Hoenheim distract her parents while the items were being rung up. He even bought the girl a few of the items her parents had told her to put back because they couldn’t afford them. Mrs. Weasley protested greatly, but Edward reassured her that he didn’t mind buying the girl things. As the youngest child and the only girl in the family with six older brothers, she deserved to be spoiled just a little. In truth, Ginny reminded Edward of little Nina. He’d told Hoenheim that when he’d asked the man to help him, and he must have told Mr. and Mrs. Weasley something because they stopped trying to stop Edward after the third time he did it and began mother henning him a bit.

Soon enough they reached Flourish and Blotts where it was packed with people. Edward groaned when he saw the banner proclaiming: “GILDEROY LOCKHART will be signing copies of his autobiography MAGICAL ME today 12:30 PM to 4:30 PM.” It looked like he was going to be meeting his new coworker sooner than he’d thought.

“We should get their books signed,” Mrs. Weasley gushed, clearly a fan. Mrs. Granger also seemed intrigued and was probably thinking of doing the same thing for her daughter who was someone who would love having a book signed by its author.

“OK, game plan,” Edward grumbled. “Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Granger and I will go get the books while Grandfather and you ladies wait in line.”

The men did just that and handed out the sets of books to the right parent. Edward carried his and Ginny’s copies while Mr. Weasley had the twins and Percy’s and Mrs. Weasley held Ron and Harry’s. Edward sent Hoenheim off (with Mr. Granger who was not going to fall for the same generous shopping spree Edward had been pulling on the Weasleys over the past hour) to go buy the kids’ books while they waited. The twins and Percy joined them by the time their spot in line made it past the lobby and neared the corner that Lockhart was just around. Ron, Harry and Hermione showed up just as they began to round that corner.

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzling white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that matched his eyes. His pointed wizard’s hat was set at an angle on his wavy golden hair. Ugh. Minerva and Severus were right. Fame had clearly gone to the man’s head and it made Edward want to shout at the unfairness of it all. This was the man that he was going to be working with for the next year.

A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.

“Out of the way, there,” he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. “This is for the Daily Prophet-”

“Big deal,” Ron and Edward snorted. Poor Ron was rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.

Lockhart had apparently heard them because he looked up and stared, eyes riveted on Harry. Then he leapt to his feet and shouted, “It can’t be Harry Potter?”

The crowd parted instantly, whispering excitedly as Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry’s arm, and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Poor Harry’s face was burning red with embarrassment as Lockhart shook his hand for the photographer who was clicking away madly, the smoke wafting thick over Edward and the others.

“Nice big smile,” Lockhart said, “Together you and I are worth the front page.”

Edward huffed, handing his sets of books off to his (grand)father so that he was free to go save Harry.

“I think that’s enough,” he said, slipping Harry out of Lockhart's grasp and stepping between them.

“And you are?” Lockhart asked, smile still perfectly bright, but the photographer looked like he was prepared to bash Edward’s head in with his camera.

“ _Professor_ Edward Elric,” Edward said.

Lockhart stared at him for a moment before clapping his hands together delightedly. “Oh! Yes! Yes! And that reminds me,” he said before turning to address the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said loudly, waving for quiet. “What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time! When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography-”

“And his other school books,” Edward cut in.

“-which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge.” The crowd applauded again. “He had _no idea_ ,” Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made his glasses slip to the end of his nose, “that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, _Magical Me_. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

The crowd cheered and clapped as Harry found himself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Edward gripped Harry by the elbow to steady him.

“And young Edward Elric here, is to be my teaching assistant. Headmaster Dumbledore took great pride in telling me that my assistant is the greatest prodigy to have ever come from Hogwarts School. He’s only 18 years old, yet young Mr. Elric here is the only wizard to have completed an education at Hogwarts school in only a few short months! And not only is he interning as my full time assistant this year, he is teaching his own subject, Alchemy, which is being offered for the second year at Hogwarts school. And if his own accomplishments weren’t enough to earn my respect, it certainly didn’t hurt to learn that his grandfather is the world’s most renowned and foremost expert on Alchemy, Dr. Van Licht.”

Edward saw Hoenheim duck behind the wall of Weasleys. Coward. Lockhart roped both Harry and Edward into another photoshoot for the photographer before Edward managed to get Harry and himself out of there.

“Gimme those,” Edward growled, snatching the books out of Harry’s hands as they made their way out of the circus that had formed after Lockhart’s announcement. “These can go back on the shelves.”

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?” a voice said, causing both of them to turn around and see the Malfoy boy. “Famous Harry Potter,” Draco Malfoy drawled. “Can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page.”

“Leave him alone,” little Ginny snapped, appearing at Edward’s elbow. “He didn’t want all that!”

“Oh look, Potter, you’ve got yourself a girlfriend!” Malfoy snickered.

Edward gently pushed a blushing Ginny behind his back, and noticed Ron and Hermione making their way over.

“Oh, it’s you,” Ron said, looking at the blond as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. “Bet you’re surprised to see Harry here, eh?”

“Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley,” Malfoy retorted. “I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those.”

Ron went as red as Ginny, and Edward made sure to stay between the two boys least they start a fight in the store.

“Ron!” said Mr. Weasley as he struggled over with Fred and George and Hoenheim. “What are you doing? It’s too crowded in here, let’s go outside.”

“Well, well, well, Arthur Weasley.”

It was Mr. Malfoy. He came up behind his son and put his hand on the younger’s shoulder, sneering.

“Lucius,” said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly.

“Busy time at the Ministry, I hear,” said Mr. Malfoy. “All those raids…I hope they’re paying you overtime?”

He picked the books out of the cauldron Ginny had carried over and looked through them, seeming surprised to see that they were all new editions and not the used ones that the Weasleys had originally picked out. Edward felt very glad that he’d had Hoenheim purchase those for the family. Mr. Weasley also looked a bit surprised, before throwing a grateful look at Edward.

“Hello, Mr. Malfoy,” Edward said, smiling charmingly.

“Ah, Mr. Elric,” Mr. Malfoy said, only just realizing that Edward wasn’t part of the Weasley crew. “I take it you have something to do with this… charitable purchase?”

“Not at all,” Edward said. “That was my grandfather’s doing.”

Mr. Malfoy’s attention then turned to Hoenheim. “Dr. Licht, I presume.”

“Aye,” Hoenheim said, smiling. “I was more than happy to help the Weasley's children out. A good education is very important after all. And Edward never lets me be so dotting toward him. He’s one of those remarkable people who’s willing to help and go to great lengths for others, but heaven forbid he’s shown that kindness in return. At least he has a stationary teaching job now. Maybe he’ll settle down and give me great grandbabies.”

“Oh my God!” Edward cried. “Was that what you were trying to do at the Summer Solstice?! Set me up with Anja?! Set me up with a nice girl to settle down with? We are so _not_ having this conversation right now. I’m only 18 for crying out loud!”

Harry, Hermione, the Weasleys and the Malfoys seemed amused by the conversation.

“Right, leaving now. Come on, Gramps,” Edward scowled, gently pulling Hoenheim through.

“We should be leaving as well,” Mr. Malfoy said, guiding his son out of the shop. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Elric.”

“Mr. Malfoy,” Edward sighed.

“Arthur,” Mr. Malfoy sneered.

“Lucius,” Mr. Weasley returned curtly. He waited until they were out of the store and the Malfoys gone from sight before saying, “Rotten to the core, the whole family. Everyone knows that. No Malfoy’s worth listening to. Bad blood runs in the whole family.”

Edward frowned at that. Sure, the Malfoys were a bit stuck up, but they weren’t evil. That was just the ignorant upper class, and the equally ignorant lower class for you, however. They were all just people. And their poor kids were destined to learn their elder’s prejudices.

Edward sighed, relieved when Mrs. Weasley and the Grangers came out with the Lockhart books. He realized that he never put away the set of books Harry had been given, but figured he might as well keep them as a backup set in case anyone forgot their books for class. Edward and Hoenheim treated the group to lunch at the Leaky Cauldron before they all parted ways.

Edward followed Hoenheim out into the Muggle part of London where they traveled by bus out of the city to a small village that turned out to be the entrance to a small traditional wizarding community of large country estates - clearly upper crust. They walked quite a ways until they reached the end of the road. The house was an old victorian that was considered the Flamel’s main house and country home and apparently where Hohenheim was currently residing.

“I’ve been helping the Flamels get their affairs in order,” Hoenheim said. “This house is the last residence I’ve been to. I’ve brought all of Nickolas’s notes and research papers here so that it’s all in one place.”

“Just how many houses do they have?” Edward asked.

“Well, there’s this one and the townhouse in London, the vacation home in Germany, another in France, another in Italy, a townhouse in America, and I think there is a vacation home in Japan. This is the main estate, however.”

“You don’t say,” Edward said, whistling as they walked through an honest to God ballroom with a crystal chandelier.

Turned out that the residence had a staff of 25 house elves, all whose contracts had already been transferred to Edward’s ownership. Edward wasn’t sure how to feel about actually owning 25 house elves, especially since he wasn’t going to be living in the house except during the summer and maybe a day or two during the winter holiday break. He found that they were really easy to please, however. They, like the elves that worked at Hogwarts, enjoyed the work that they did and were happy to suggest jobs for Edward to assign them, such as visiting and cleaning the other Flamel homes.

Two elves - Merribell and Baxter - ended up traveling with Edward to Hogwarts and worked as his housekeepers in his office and living quarters at the school. They’d been Nickolas and Perenelle’s personal elves, and were, therefore, used to going wherever their master was going. Once they were done cleaning up his rooms at the school, Edward was more than happy to assign them to care for the Flamels until they passed away. According to Hoenheim, that could happen around late September or early October. The elves appeared to really appreciate being allowed to serves their old masters until the Flamels passed on, and bowed deeply several times before leaving.


	3. Alchemy Theory and Cornish Pixies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a few days early, but I know you guys don't mind. ;) I was going to post this chapter on Halloween, but I finished it earlier than expected and it turns out that I'm working on Halloween, so I decided to post it early. Woo hoo! So here is an early, but long awaited Halloween treat. Enjoy!

The end of summer vacation came much too quickly for Edward’s liking, but before he knew it, it was September 1st and preparations for the student’s arrival were in their final phases. Edward was grumpy to learn that Lockhart’s office was located in a different part of the castle from the one Quirrell had used the year previous. It was on the second floor corridor, which was fine - in fact it was the unused classroom Dumbledore had first stored the Mirror of Erised - but it was one of the largest classrooms the school had, which meant that there was a lot of wall space and that wallspace was soon covered with portraits of Lockhart. Severus hadn’t been very helpful and had actually chuckled while Edward ranted to him about it over lunch.

In the evening as the staff began to file into the Great Hall to await the arrival of the students, Edward tried to take a seat beside Snape at the end of the staff’s High Table, but Lockhart popped out of nowhere and dragged him over to a spot on the other end of the table between Professors Sybill Trelawney and Aurora Sinistra. Edward scowled at the other man when he was practically shoved into the seat next to Sinistra, while Lockhart’s flowing robes nearly knocked Trelawney’s large magnifying glasses off, causing the woman to scoot back in her seat and glare nastily at the man. Not that he noticed.

“Edward!” Lockhart cried. “How marvelous it is to see you again!”

“I saw you not even an hour ago, Lockhart,” Edward huffed.

“Yes, yes, but that was all in preparation! We hadn’t had time to talk.”

“Oh, you talked alright,” Edward muttered under his breath, slumping down into his seat as Lockhart began to prattle on about whatever it was he hadn’t gotten around to talking about earlier.

Edward tossed Sinestra a long suffering eyeroll and smiled with the tall dark skinned Astronomy Professor after she gave him a sympathetic grimace and even patted his arm.

“Best of luck to you this year,” the woman told him in her low accented voice.

“Think I could get away with stabbing him during dessert if I just said that I thought his robes were part of the pudding?” Edward asked her.

He was quite delighted when she let out a very dainty snort of laughter.

Sinestra was one of the many teachers at Hogwarts that he hadn’t gotten to know during the previous year. This was mostly because he usually sat on the other end of the staff table with the heads of the school’s houses, but partly because the tall African woman was strict and severe looking in a way that actually had intimidated Edward because he was not used to seeing people with such dark complexions.

In Amestris, everyone had fair or tanned skin tones, unless they were Ishvalan refugees, but even though Ishvalans had darker complections, they had white hair and red eyes. Sinestra and the few African-English students that Edward had met, like Dean Thomas of Gryffindor, had even darker complexions and hair and eye colors. It was a strange and new ethnicity that Perenelle Flamel had enjoyed teaching him about that summer, telling him stories about her trips and adventures to Africa in her “youth” and about the various cultures and religions there, some sounding very similar to what little Edward knew about the Ishvalans back in his home world.

So while Lockhart literally talked to himself without realizing that Edward wasn’t listening to the “conversation” they were supposed to be having, Edward spent the minutes leading up to the Sorting Ceremony taking the opportunity to get to know Sinestra. It took a little more small talk before the woman opened up and told him what it was like growing up in a small village in Uganda and attending the school of Uagadou in the Mountains of the Moon.

She even showed him the token she still had after she had her dream from the Dream Messengers that the African wizard school sends to inform children in Africa that they’ve been accepted to the school. Some of the things she told him were so strange and fantastic that Edward felt as if she were telling him fairy tales rather than real life stories about her schooling. Sinestra took such obvious amusement and enjoyment out of telling him these things and seeing his reactions that both of them were quite disappointed when McGonagall entered the Great Hall with the First Years to start the Sorting Ceremony. Edward was doubly disappointed because he had nothing to really distract him from Lockhart’s continuous (if not currently hushed) babbling, now talking about his memories of being sorted himself when he’d been a student.

Edward did his best, though, to ignore the man and focus on who was being sorted. He was easily able to pick Ginny Weasley out of the crowd and gave her a small wave from where she was waiting to be sorted standing next to a skinny blond girl who was wearing a dreamy expression on her face as she stared up at the bewitched ceiling. Ginny waved tentatively back. Edward then cast his gaze to the Gryffindor table, trying to spot Harry, Ron and Hermione. He frowned when he found Hermione, but couldn’t pick Ron out from his brothers, or find Harry. He looked questioningly at the girl, but the brunette shrugged helplessly and wrung her hands in a nervous fashion. Edward leaned forward slightly and peered further down the staff table and found, to his surprise, that Snape was missing too. What the hell was going on?

It took another twenty minutes for the sorting to end with Ginny being sorted into Gryffindor with the rest of her family. Dumbledore gave his few words before the feast - this year’s being “truffle, spearmint, and blink” - and the food appeared. Edward was about to help himself when Snape suddenly reappeared, slipping through the side door that led up from the dungeons and headed straight for McGonagall, who’d just taken her seat beside Dumbledore.

The three bowed their heads together for a quick conversation, all of them frowning, before Dumbledore nodded and McGonagall once more rose from her seat. Before she and Snape moved too far, Dumbledore said something to them, looking over at Edward briefly before returning to his meal. Snape and McGonagall exchanged a look, Snape shrugging, before the two approached Edward.

“Something wrong?” Edward asked when they reached him.

“Unfortunately,” McGonagall said in a clipped tone. “Will you please come with us to help sort out a certain matter?”

Edward sighed, casting the delicious feast before him a mournful look before he nodded, excusing himself from Sinestra’s company, but unrepentantly bumping into Lockhart as he got up. He followed them down to the dungeons, heading to Snape’s office. Snape actually looked a touch gleeful, while McGonagall looked severe and very upset. Edward wondered what was going on until they entered the office and he saw Harry and Ron standing before Snape’s desk, both white-faced and fearful. Both boys flinched when McGonagall raised her wand to light the fireplace.

“Sit,” she said, and they both backed into chairs by the fire. “Explain.”

Ron launched into a story about the barrier at the train station in London not letting him and Harry through to the platform where the school train picked the students up before bringing them to Hogwarts.

“-so we had no choice, Professor, we couldn’t get on the train,” Ron said.

“Why didn’t you send us a letter by owl? I believe _you_ have an owl?” Professor McGonagall said coldly to Harry.

Poor Harry gaped at her. “I-I didn’t think-”

“That,” said McGonagall, “is obvious.”

There was a knock at the office door and Snape, looking a little too amused and happy with the situation for Edward’s liking, opened it. There stood Professor Dumbledore, looking unusually grave. He stared down his very crooked nose at the boys, both of whom looking like they were waiting for a death sentence.

There was a long silence before Dumbledore said, “Please explain why you did this.”

Harry was unable to meet Dumbledore’s eyes, speaking to his knees, as he told them how they happened upon a flying car parked outside the station to fly to school, but the invisibility booster or whatever stopped working shortly after they got into the air. Then there was something about crashing the failing car into the tree by the lake on school grounds.

It was quiet for another moment before Ron said, in a hopeless sort of voice, “We’ll go and get our stuff.”

“What are you talking about, Weasley?” barked McGonagall.

“Well, you’re expelling us, aren’t you?” Ron asked.

Harry looked pained and panicked as he looked up at Dumbledore.

“Not today, Mr. Weasley,” said Dumbledore. “But I must impress upon the both of you the seriousness of what you have done. I will be writing to both your families tonight. I must also warn you that if you do anything like this again, I will have no choice but to expel you.”

Snape’s happy look was gone. He cleared his throat and said, “Professor Dumbledore, these boys have flouted the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, caused serious damage to an old and valuable tree - surely acts of this nature-”

“Will be for Professor McGonagall to decide on these boy’s punishments, Severus,” said Dumbledore calmly. “They are in her House and are therefore her responsibility.” He turned to McGonagall. “I must go back to the feast, Minerva, I’ve got to give out a few notices. Come, Severus, there’s a delicious-looking custard tart I want to sample-”

Snape shot a nasty glare at the two boys as he followed Dumbledore out. Edward wanted to follow them, but McGonagall stopped him, her gaze mellowing a bit from the wrathful eagle eyed look she’d been using on the boys.

“Would you stay for a moment longer, Edward?” she asked before turning back to the boys. “You’d better get along to the hospital wing, Weasley, you’re bleeding.”

“Not much,” Ron said, hastily wiping at a cut over his eye with his sleeve. “Professor, I wanted to watch my sister being Sorted-”

“The Sorting Ceremony is over,” said McGonagall. “Your sister is also in Gryffindor.”

“Oh, good,” Ron said, looking relieved.

“And speaking of Gryffindor-” McGonagall started to say sharply, but Harry cut in.

“Professor, when we took the car term hadn’t started, so - so Gryffindor shouldn’t really have points taken from it - should it?” Harry finished, watching her anxiously.

McGonagall gave him a piercing look, but Edward caught the signs of a smile lingering at the corners of her mouth, which was looking less thin.

“I will not take any points from Gryffindor,” she said, “but you will both get detention.” She raised her wand and pointed it at Snape’s desk. A large plate of sandwiches, two silver goblets, and a jug of iced pumpkin juice appeared with a pop. “You will eat in here and then go straight up to your dormitory. Professor Elric and I must also return to the feast.”

“Professor, they’ll need the password to get in there,” Edward pointed out as he followed her to the door.

McGonagall paused, then faced Ron and Harry again. “The password is ‘wattlebird.’ Goodnight, Potter. Weasley.”

“Night, Professor McGonagall,” the boys said. “Night, Professor Elric.”

“Night,” Edward said, nodding at them before following McGonagall out the door.

“Never in all my time at this school have I ever seen such foolishness,” McGonagall huffed as they headed back up to the Great Hall.

“Has that ever happened before?” Edward asked. “The barrier not allowing students onto the platform?”

McGonagall frowned. “No, I can’t say that I’ve heard that one before.”

Edward hummed before asking, “So what did you and Snape need me down there for? You could have just informed me about what happened after the fact.”

“Dumbledore thought we could give you a short break from Lockhart’s company,” McGonagall said wryly. “You’ve been with him for a majority of the day, haven’t you?”

Edward groaned. “Why do I have the feeling that I’m going to be organizing most of his coursework?”

“Perhaps you will, if we want the students to learn anything. You’ll have to let me know how your first day assisting him goes at dinner tomorrow,” she said.

“Ha. Funny,” Edward huffed, opening the door to the Great Hall, gesturing for McGonagall to go ahead.

She smiled at him, but rather than let him retake his seat between Lockhart and Sinistra, McGonagall brought him over towards her seat where there was suddenly a second chair between hers and Flitwick's.

“You are an angel,” Edward told her as they sat down.

McGonagall chuckled, but waved at the food in front of him. “I suggest you help yourself quick. Only the desserts are going to remain in a few more minutes.”

Edward did just that, piling his plate high.

 

The next morning, after performing his usual morning stretches, Edward washed up in the staff bathroom and got ready for the first day of classes. His Monday mornings, blessedly, didn’t have any Lockhart classes. No, those waited until the afternoon and boy could Edward wait for that. Instead he had two Alchemy classes to prepare for. His first was at 8:00 with one of his two sections of returning students for his Alchemy Theory II class, and his second class at 10:00 was with a section of mostly third year students that would be starting Alchemy Theory I.

He was thankful that Lockhart wasn’t present at breakfast yet when he arrived in the Great Hall and took a seat beside Snape. They ate in silence for a bit before there was a sudden explosion of sound originating from the Gryffindor table that filled the hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

“RONALD WEASLEY! HOW _DARE_ YOU STEAL THAT CAR! I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY’D EXPELLED YOU. YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU. I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE!  WHEN WE GOT THAT LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME! WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS. YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED! I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER’S NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK AND IT IS ENTIRELY _YOUR_ FAULT! IF YOU PUT ANOTHER _TOE_ OUT OF LINE, WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!”

The silence that followed Mrs. Weasley’s shrieking was near deafening. Edward stared at where Harry and Ron were sitting stunned. Ron in particular was looking a little pale as a letter in front of him (presumably where the voice of the boy’s mother had come from) burst into flames. Edward felt bad for the boy, but he couldn’t help but chuckle along with a few others. Snape in particular looked very amused.

“What the hell was that?” Edward asked.

“That was a Howler,” Snape explained. “It’s basically a letter that yells at its recipient.”

After that bit of morning entertainment, Snape excused himself so that he could pass out his student’s schedules. Edward finished his breakfast alone and then hurried off to prepare for his first class, which would start in half an hour.

Today, he’d decided, was going to be a review day to see how much his returning students remembered from last year. He got his notes all in order and waited for his students to arrive. Unlike last year, where there’d been three sections, enough of his previous students had either graduated from Hogwarts or had dropped the class to condense it down to two slightly larger sections. This first group was comprised of all his Ravenclaw and Slytherin students, which had made up the biggest and smallest house groups of students he’d had last year. Once the clock struck 8, Edward shut the door with a flick of his wand and began to take role, pleased that everyone was present.

“Alright everyone,” he started, getting up from his desk and began to pace the front of the room. “I hope you had a good summer. I also hope you haven’t forgotten too much from last year. This first week will be mostly review before we really delve into any new material. First-”

Edward was cut off by a knock at the door. He frowned and his students turned in their seats to look towards the door, which opened to admit Lockhart.

“Oh! Deeply sorry, Elric. I didn’t realize you were busy,” the man beamed.

“I sent you my schedual,” Edward said in as calmly a manner as he could muster. “I was sure I’d informed you that I had morning classes teaching Alchemy.”

“Yes, yes! I remember now. So sorry,” Lockhart continued to blab as he entered the class and took a seat behind Edward’s desk. “Do continue. I know so little about Alchemy that I hope you don’t mind me sitting in.”

Edward’s frown deepened, but as much as he wanted to, he didn’t kick the man out of his classroom.

“Fine. Just don’t interrupt,” he said before facing his class again. “Getting back on track now people. Alchemy. Who can define it for me?”

Several hands went up. Edward picked on a fifth year boy with blond hair and bright almost golden hazel eyes by the name of James Hakuba. He had hawkish features that made Edward wonder if the boy was related to Rolanda Hooch in some way.

“Alchemy is the ancient mystical art of manipulating and altering matter by using natural energy,” Hakuba said. “Which is also known as Transmutation.”

“Correct,” Edward said. “Ten points to Ravenclaw. Now who can tell me the three sequences of transmutation?”

More hands went up. Edward picked the only Slytherin in the room raising her hand. She was a sixth year student with short chin length black hair and almond shaped eyes. Her name was Cassandra Cain.

“Comprehension, Deconstruction, Reconstruction,” she said softly.

“Good, Miss Cain. Can you define one of those for us?” Edward asked.

Cain was more hesitant to speak this time. She wasn’t much of a talker, mostly because English wasn’t her first language, and he hated to put her on the spot, but she’d been opening up beautifully at the end of the last year.

“Comprehension,” she said. “Know… make up… structure of thing being transmuted.”

“Excellent,” Edward said, beaming at her. “You answered both questions very well. Twenty points to Slytherin. Comprehension is understanding the inherent structure and properties of the atomic or molecular makeup of a particular material that is going to be transmuted, including the flow and balance of potential kinetic energy within. It’s why I made you study the periodic table. You need to know what is in the materials you’re working with before you can transmute them into what you want them to become. Now, the next phase. Who can tell me what deconstruction means in the context of alchemy?”

Edward picked a fourth year Ravenclaw by the name of Izzy Izumi, a kid with a big frizzy bush of red hair and dark grey eyes.

“Deconstruction is what happens when an alchemist manipulates the natural energy in the item being transmuted to break down the physical structure of the material into a more malleable state so that it can be easily reshaped into a new form.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Edward said, nodding approvingly to the boy. “Ten points to Ravenclaw. Now who would like to define the last step?”

To his surprise, his only seventh year Slytherin raised his hand. Jason Dean was typically described by his fellow staff members as trouble, but he was actually pretty well behaved in Edward’s alchemy classes. He was only a year younger than Edward himself, but he reminded the young alchemist of Roy Mustang for some weird reason. Maybe it was the boy’s love for pyrotechnics.

“Yes, Mr. Dean.”

“Reconstruction is continuing the flow of energy so as to reform the material into a new shape,” the teen said, eyes hooded, but stare intense.

“Correct,” Edward said, nodding in approval. “Ten points to Slytherin. And that is the gist of what alchemy is. The proper application of this craft requires not only a full understanding of what muggles call chemistry and ancient alchemical theory - which we shall be delving into more this year - but also a sort of natural talent towards recognizing and manipulating the physical objects with energy, which require certain levels of intelligence and aptitude. Some of you may become capable of studying and practicing the practical aspects of alchemy by the end of this year. Those of you that do, will be able apply for a practical alchemy class that’ll go beyond the simple transmutations we’ll be attempting later this year.”

There was an excited murmur in the class upon hearing that they’d be able to try transmuting something themselves.

“But until then, we’ll continue studying the theory, for there are many paths by which alchemists can transmute the various substances of the world, such as the Four Classical Elements: water, earth, fire, and air; or the Three Essential Principles: salt, sulfur and mercury, but at the very foundation of all alchemy is that of the Law of Equivalent Exchange. Unlike Transfiguration, you can’t get something out of nothing in Alchemy,” Edward said.

“The practice of alchemy to create objects out of raw matter or turn one object into another is widely believed to be capable of anything. Alchemy is often viewed as magical or miraculous by those unfamiliar with the craft - especially by muggles, but it _is_ a science as most wizards and witches forget. For a time, centuries ago, for the muggle and magical communities alike, Alchemy was both magic and science and practiced together. The magical community just continued to investigate it’s more mystic properties, and the muggles studied and expanded upon it in their own ways and renamed it chemistry. Unfortunately, despite coming so far in the study and exploration of their chemistry, muggles got so caught up in their science and laws of nature that they no longer acknowledge any connections that their chemistry had to alchemy and magical practices. Equally unfortunate, is the fact that the magical community has ignored the past contributions of muggle science. We’ve gotten so used to waving a wand at something and using spells - particularly those used in transfiguration - that the art of Alchemy had become lost for a time until Nickolas Flame, Professor Dumbledore, and Dr. Van Licht succeeded in perfecting the first Philosopher’s Stone that had been created in centuries.”

Edward frowned as he mentioned the Philosopher's Stone, but he had everyone on the edge of their seats. Everyone at the school knew by now the story of what happened between Harry Potter, Professor Quirrell and Edward at the end of term last year.

“The Philosopher’s Stone was a dangerous artifact,” Edward explained. “Despite being the size of a stone no larger than the palm of your hand, it contained immense power that in the wrong hands could have been devastating. I’ve heard stories from Flamel himself that he and his wife went into hiding practically half-way across the world with the stone during the time He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rose to power because Alchemists were in high demand and how they they didn’t want the stone to fall into his hands. Dr. Licht remained in hiding where he’d stayed since the muggle’s second world war. I’ve been told many potential Alchemists were killed during that time because they weren’t of the same caliber. But most didn’t die because they had displeased the Dark Lord and his followers. They’d died because they had poor knowledge about the very thing they were trying to accomplish. Tell me. How many of you had even _heard_ of the periodic table before I handed out those charts last year?”

Only four out of his twenty-five students raised their hands. All Ravenclaw.

“You’re all muggle borns, or at least have a muggle parent, aren’t you?” Edward asked.

He received hesitant nods.

“So if so few of you even had a clue as to what that was, how well do you think those witches and wizards who deigned to call themselves alchemists faired?” Edward asked. “How could they be expected to perform basic alchemy when they didn’t even know the properties of the things they were trying to transmutate? That is because they didn’t know the Laws of Alchemy. Laws they wouldn’t dare acknowledge because they have muggle origins. Alchemy is as much a science as it is a branch of magic, much like the art of brewing potions, as I’m sure Professor Snape would tell you. And as such, Alchemy is subject to certain laws and limitations, all of which fall under the concept of Equivalent Exchange. Now, who remembers what the Law of Equivalent Exchange says?”

He looked around and picked a sixth year Ravenclaw girl by the name of Sophie Devereaux. She was a sharp young woman with a dark tan complection and molten brown eyes. She was one of the many female students he had that he was sure had taken his class because she had a crush on him and thought he was “cute.”

“Yes, Miss Devereaux.”

“The Law of Equivalent Exchange states that in order to obtain or create something, something of equal value must be lost or destroyed.”

“Correct. Ten points to Ravenclaw,” Edward said. “In standard practice, Equivalent Exchange is separated into two parts: The Law of Conservation of Mass, and The Law of Natural Providence. Does anyone remember what these two laws say?”

There were fewer hands up this time, and all were put up in a manner that Edward knew they weren’t completely sure they remembered the answers right. He picked on Izumi again.

“The Law of Conservation of Mass states that energy and matter can neither be created from nothing nor destroyed to the point of elemental nonexistence. In other words, to create an object weighing one kilogram, at least one kilogram of material is necessary and destroying an object weighing one kilogram would reduce it to a set of parts, the sum of which would weigh one kilogram.”

“Again, couldn’t have said it better myself, Mr. Izumi,” Edward said before looking around. “Anyone able to tell me about the Law of Natural Providence?”

There were no hands other than Izumi’s so Edward let the boy define the other law as well.

“The Law of Natural Providence states that an object or material made of a particular substance or element can only be transmuted into another object with the same basic makeup and properties of that initial material. In other words, an object or material made mostly of water can only be transmuted into another object with the attributes of water.”

“Correct again, Mr. Izumi. Twenty more points to Ravenclaw,” Edward said, before returning to lecture mode. “These laws are absolute. The Law of Conservation of Mass basically means you can make something the same size or smaller out of something big, but you can’t do the opposite. You can take a large stone and transmute it into something like a dish set so long as you’ve got enough material to do so in the deconstruction phase. However, you can’t take a rock the size of your head and expect to make a lifesize statue out of it. When you transmute something, you are limited to the amount of materials you are working with. What goes in, must come back out in the same quantity as it did going in. Nothing lost, nothing gained.”

“Then we have our second law. In Transfiguration you may be able to turn a bird into a goblet, but that can’t be done in Alchemy according to the Law of Providence. A goblet is comprised of various earthly materials such as metals, and the minerals and sediments that make up stone or wood, while an animal is made up of various liquids and gases and bone and whatever makes up it’s outer skin. The chemical makeups of these two things might have a few items in common, but they’re completely different and therefore can’t be transmuted into the other because they don’t possess the right properties to do so. _This_ is mostly where our failed Alchemists got in trouble. They did not know about this rule. Now, I didn’t touch much on this last year, but now that you’re back and going to attempt to make transmutations on your own this year, I must heavily stress the matter of rebound. Do any of you remember what Dr. Licht’s textbook says about what happens when a transmutation is rebounded?”

There were no hands raised this time. Edward sighed, running a gloved hand through his hair. He’d contemplated the last few weeks how much he wanted to talk about what happens when a transmutation failed. How much he wanted to reveal about his own past. About his metal automail limbs.

“Since the alchemical forces being manipulated in a transmutation are not human in origin, but of the forces of nature and world as a whole, the consequences for attempting to bypass the Law of Equivalent Exchange in transmutation are not merely failure and cessation,” Edward explained. “When too much is attempted out of too little, what occurs is called a Rebound, in which the alchemical forces that are thrown out of balance fluctuate wildly of their own accord in order to stabilize themselves - taking or giving more than was intended in often unpredictable and catastrophic ways such as accidental mutation, serious injury, or…death.”

Edward met every one of his students eyes to express how serious he was being.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how awful a rebound can be. Those would-be potential Alchemists that died during You-Know-Who’s reign of terror died because they messed with forces they couldn’t comprehend because they were ignorant of the Laws. Their transmutations rebounded on them and some had their bodies torn apart during the deconstruction phase because they tried to apply Transfiguration logic to Alchemy. The reason we didn’t practice transmutations in Theory I is because of how dangerous it can be if it is done wrong. If you’ve ever seen someone splinched during a failed apparition attempt, then you might have a slight idea of how bad a rebound can be on a failed minor transmutation. I’ve seen Alchemists lose limbs over seemingly simple transmutations because they got something wrong in their calculations. The more complex the transmutation, the greater chance of it going wrong, and the more severe the rebound is likely to be. This year, not only will I continue to stress responsible practices of Alchemy, I’ll also begin reviewing the taboos of Alchemy. None of you will begin attempting any kind of transmutation in here until you are all familiar with the consequences of Alchemy taboos and Transmutation Rebounds. Are there any questions about what we just covered?”

It was quiet for a while before Lockhart decided to speak up.

“You certainly know how to render a class speechless,” the man said, chuckling in a nervous manner. “So serious.”

“Alchemy is a serious subject,” Edward said grimly. “I want them aware of what they’re in for this year for their own safety. I won’t tolerate any foolishness in this class.”

“Yes, I see that,” Lockhart said, before flashing one of his damn obnoxious bright smiles. “You’re very well informed on the subject too, for one so young. I take it you grew up around Alchemy? Not that it’s surprising considering that your grandfather is the great Dr. Licht himself.”

That got his students murmuring again. Edward felt his eyebrow twitch.

“So?”

“So what stories you must have! To think, being related to the only renowned modern Alchemist since Dumbledore and Flamel, you must have rubbed elbows with some spectacular men. And you did mention that you’ve met and discussed alchemy with Flamel, as well.”

“So I did,” Edward sighed. “Sadly, I have little to tell. For a majority of my life I grew up without my father’s side of the family around. Until this summer, I hadn’t seen my grandfather since I was a small child. It was also this summer that I met Nickolas and Perenelle Flamel. They allowed my Grandfather and I to stay with them for a few weeks in Germany.”

“How delightful!” Lockhart cried.

“Yes,” Edward said sourly just before the bell rang. He returned his attention to his students. “I want everyone to review chapter 13, particularly the section that talks about rebounds. I’ll see you all Wednesday afternoon. Dismissed.”

The students all scrambled up from their seats, whispering to each other.

“If you don’t mind, Lockhart, I have another class to prepare for,” Edward said, scowling at the man still seated behind his desk.

“So you do! Do you mind if I sit in on that one too? I find your alchemy such an interesting subject. You know, it reminds me of a time when-”

Edward tuned out the rest as the man prattled on. He tried his best to get his notes straight as he got the introduction materials out for his Theory I class and wrote up the words he’d define over the next hour and a half. He also got his demonstration materials out for the few basic transmutations he’d perform to show the class what alchemy could do.

His Intro to Alchemy class went alright despite Lockhart being there and causing more interruptions than he had during his Theory II class. The students had been just as impressed by his transmutations as his students last year had. By 11:30, he was more than ready for lunch.

He’d tried to break away from Lockhart, but the man was like a boomerang and kept coming back. Not even McGonagall and Snape could save him from the man’s company, though the food shut him up for at least a little while until he decided to regal the staff table with how he thought Edward’s classes had gone. There was a lot of praise, as well as criticisms for how he believed Edward had handled delivering his information and impressing it upon the students, particularly his lecture on transmutation rebounds. As annoying as Edward found the man, the rest of the staff seemed quite keen to hear what Lockhart had to say. None of them had sat in on his class before and it was true that few wizards knew much about alchemy, so to hear such details intrigued them about what went into Alchemy and the dangers that could occur when it was performed incorrectly.

Lunch was both a too long and too short affair before Edward followed Lockhart to begin their first Defence Against the Dark Arts class with the second year Gryffindor and Slytherin students. At least Edward would get to see Harry, Ron and Hermione.

They went outside to cut through the courtyard to reach the part of the school Lockhart’s classroom was located. It was only then that Edward realized that he wasn’t sure what Lockhart had planned for his first class, or even if there was a plan. Sure, they’d done a lot of prep work setting up the classroom the day before, but other than reviewing Lockhart’s books, Edward wasn’t sure what the man was planning to teach.

Edward was about to ask Lockhart about it when they both noticed a rather large gathering of Gryffindor and Slytherin students. Lockhart was off like a shot, his bright turquoise robes swirling behind him.

“What’s all this, what’s all this?” the man was asked. “Who’s giving out signed photos?”

Edward frowned when he saw Lockhart fling his arm out and pulled none other than Harry Potter to his side.

“Shouldn’t have asked! We meet again, Harry!”

Poor Harry was pinned to Lockhart’s side, his face burning red.

“Come on then, Mr. Creevey,” said Lockhart, beaming at a first year Gryffindor student who was holding a camera in his hands. “A double portrait, can’t do better than that, and we’ll _both_ sign it for you.”

The young boy fumbled with his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signaling the start of afternoon classes. Figured. Of course Lockhart would make them late for his own class.

“Off you go, move along there,” Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle with Harry still clasped to his side.

Edward sighed as he followed with the rest of the second years, gathering more as they made their way through the castle corridors lined with staring students and up a staircase to Lockhart’s room where the man finally let Harry go at last. Harry yanked his robes straight and headed for a seat at the very back of the class, where he busied himself with piling all of Lockhart’s books in front of him, blocking his view of the real thing.

Edward flashed him a sympathetic smile as he headed to the front of the room while the rest of the class came clattering in, Ron and Hermione taking a seat on either side of Harry. Edward himself took a seat behind the small work table beside Lockhart’s desk, waiting for the class to begin and for him to have something to do to aid Lockhart.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. The man reached forward, picking up Neville Longbottom’s copy of his book _Travels with Trolls_ , and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

“Me,” Lockhart said, pointing at it and winking as well. “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly’s_ Most-Charming-Smile Award - but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by _smiling_ at her!”

He paused, probably waiting for the class to laugh. No one did, but a few smiled weakly. Edward did his best to refrain from rolling his eyes.

“I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books - well done. I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about - just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in. Professor Elric, would you be so kind as to pass out the papers?”

Edward looked towards the man’s desk and realized that there was a stack of papers. Edward passed the packets out with no comment, though his eyebrow rose when he caught sight of the first few questions.

 

1.)  __What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color_ _

__2.)_ _ _What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?_

 _3.)_ _What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement to date?_

 

Edward didn’t bother reading any further. After he passed out a quiz to the last student he moved to place the rest back on Lockhart’s desk, but the man stopped him and said, “Why don’t you take a copy and take the quiz yourself? I’d like to see how well my assistant is prepared.”

Edward let himself channel his teacher, Izumi Curtis’s, most deadly glare.

“No,” was all he said before he slapped the papers down and strode off towards his own table.

“Alright,” Lockhart said, voice a little high, before he was back to his normal grinning self and left Edward alone. Edward gazed out over the students and saw more than a few sniggering to themselves as they glanced between him and Lockhart, who was staying behind his desk and not looking at Edward.

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

“Tut, tut - hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac,” the man said. “I say so in _Year with the Yeti_ . And a few of you need to read _Wanderings with Werewolves_ more carefully - I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples - though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey!”

He gave the class another roguish wink. Edward saw many students starting with expressions of disbelief on their faces, several were shaking with silent laughter, but a few girls including - sadly - Hermione, were listening to Lockhart with rapt attention.

“But Miss Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions - good girl! In fact,” Lockhart flipped through her quiz “full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?”

Hermione raised a trembling hand.

“Excellent!” beamed Lockhart. “Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so - to business-”

Lockhart moved back behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

“Now be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm.”

That had the attention of the students. Even Harry was leaning around his pile of books for a better look at the cage. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover.

“I must ask you not to scream,” said Lockhart in a low voice. “It might provoke them.”

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover. Edward bit back a scoff when he saw what was inside.

“Yes,” Lockhart said dramatically. “ _Freshly caught Cornish Pixies_.”

Seamus Finnigan in the front row on the Gryffindor half of the room snorted with laughter.

“Yes?” Lockhart said, smiling at Finnigan.

“Well, they’re not - they’re not very _dangerous,_ are they?” Finnigan choked.

“Don’t be so sure!” said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at the boy. “Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!”

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to the most obnoxious flock of birds chittering at each other. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making faces at the students.

“Right, then,” Lockhart said loudly. “Let’s see what you make of them!”

And the idiot opened the cage.

It was pandemonium. Pixies shot off like rockets in every direction. Edward’s first instinct was to lock the door and windows to prevent the little beasts from escaping. Two seized poor Longbottom by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot for the window, but bounced off due to the spells Edward had cast. The rest and those giving up on escaping proceeded to wreck the classroom, grabbing ink bottles and spraying the class with them. They shredded books and papers, tore the pictures from the walls and upended wastebaskets, grabbed bags and books and threw them at the students. Within minutes most of the students were taking cover under their desks and Longbottom was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.

“Come on now - round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies,” Lockhart shouted.

“How?!” Edward roared at the man. “You didn’t tell them how to.”

“Ah, right,” Lockhart stammered a bit before he rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, “ _Peskipiksi Pesternomi!_ ”

It had absolutely no effect.

“Is that even a real spell?!” Edward cried.

“Ah…” Before Lockhart would try again one of the pixies seized his wand and flew off with it. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk.

“You have gotta be shitting me,” Edward growled, whipping out his wand. “Alright, I’ve had enough. IMMOBULUS!”

Everything and everyone in the room froze. Perhaps he’d overdone it, but it made picking out the pixies easier. With a wave of his wand, Edward stuffed the pixies back into their cage. He made sure all were accounted, that the cage door was latched shut, and levitated poor Longbottom down from the chandelier for before unfreezing the room.

The students tentatively came out from beneath their desks and so did Lockhart.

“Alright,” Edward said, doing his best to exude calm although he wanted nothing better than to explode at Lockhart. “If anyone is hurt, I will write you up a hall pass and you may make your way to the hospital wing. Anyone that would like a quick cleaning spell, come front and center. Otherwise, class is dismissed.”

Most of the students filed before him in lines and he cast quick cleaning spells on the lot of them. A few, especially Longbottom, needed passes to see Madam Pomfrey.  Once they were all seen to, Edward turned to face Lockhart, who flinched back from his glare.

“Now let me be perfectly clear, Lockhart,” Edward said frostily. “You are not to bring anymore creatures into this class without my knowing and without a plan to deal with them or incorporate them into a lesson for the students. This _will not_ happen again. Am. I. Underdstoon?”

“Crystal,” Lockhart squeaked.

“Now let me see your lesson plans,” Edward demanded. “I want to know what we’re covering for the rest of the day.”

 

Snape was laughing at him. Not smiling with mirth. Not a near silent chuckle. Actually _laughing_ as Edward recounted his day to him, McGonagall, and a surprising number of the staff that had congregated in his classroom after dinner that night. They were in his classroom because so many had come that they wouldn’t have fit in his office. Sinestra and Trelawney were there, seated next to Sprout and Flitwick in comfy lounge chairs they’d summoned along the front of his classroom on either side of Snape and McGonagall. Even Rolanda Hooch, Poppy Pomfrey and Dumbledore were present, seated in squashy looking chairs in the middle aisle between desks.

There were even a few other teachers present that Edward hadn’t really gotten to know yet, like Bathsheda Babbling - the Ancient Ruins Professor, Charity Burbage - the Muggle Studies Professor, Septima Vector - the Arithmancy Professor, and Silvanus Kettleburn - the Care of Magical Creatures Professor. Actually, now that Edward looked around the room, he was pretty sure that this was a majority of the teachers that taught at Hogwarts with the exceptions of Lockhart and Professor Binns, the ghost History of Magic Teacher.

“I mean really!” Edward fumed, in full on rant mode. “What was the moron even thinking?! He just shows the class a cage full of pixies and sets them loose without even an explanation of what they are beyond a name? Not even Quirrell at his most useless and worst stuttering moments was that incompetent. I don’t care that it was all an act and he turned out to be a turn coat agent of the Dark Lord, at least the man knew about the creatures he was trying to teach the students about. Dumbledore, if I have to put up with that man and babysit him all year, I want a raise. I’m essentially going to be teaching two subjects this year if we want the students to get anything more than a friggin book club out of what is supposed to be a class teaching them about ways to defend themselves against dark creatures and spells.”

“Come now, Edward, surely you’re exaggerating?” Flitwick - who’d had the least amount of exposure to Lockhart out of the four heads of houses teachers thus far - said.

“I wish,” Edward grumbled. “For the rest of the afternoon, all he did was pass out his ridiculous quiz and opened his book, _Magical Me_ , to read excerpts and explain what he did. It didn’t matter what year the students were. Every class after the second years was the same.”

Several of the teachers tisked and shook their heads.

“Professor Dumbledore, clearly Lockhart is incompetent,” Snape said. “I don’t see why we should allow him to continue teaching.”

“Now, now, Severus,” Dumbledore said calmly. “That is why Edward is assisting him. Let’s give Gilderoy a chance to get the hang of teaching students. If it would help, Edward, you won’t have to take part in any night patrols you don’t volunteer for this year. I’m sure everyone here would agree with me that that is a fair stipulation.”

Many of the teachers nodded their agreement, casting sympathetic glances at their youngest staff member. Edward huffed, but accepted the offer, knowing he’d need that time writing up Lockhart’s own lesson plans on top of his own. Granted, he already had everything planned out this fall up to Christmas break for his classes, so really, he just had to figure out how to make Lockhart’s classes somewhat educational. God, he hoped that he still had notes from Quirrell’s classes from last year.

After that, his fellow teachers began to leave the room until only Edward and Snape were left.

“This year is going to be a nightmare,” Edward groaned.

“Look on the bright side, Edward,” Snape mused. “By the end of this year, you’ll have proved that not only can you teach your own subject, but that you can cover another subject’s classes as well. The ministry would be fools not to give you a teaching license. Everyone that had just been in this room would kick up a fuss if they didn’t after all you’re going through.”

“Ha,” Edward growled, but smiled all the same, glad to know that his fellow teachers had his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? I hope you guy liked it.
> 
> A lot of you had asked to see Edward teaching, so I hope this chapter didn't disappoint. I hope I didn't get too lecture-y with Edward, but I kinda wanted to establish the kind of Alchemy we're working with. A lot of it came from the FMA wiki page on Alchemy. Did you guys pick out the student cameos?
> 
> Saguru "James" Hakuba - a half British/half Japanese High School Detective from Gosho Aoyama's Magic Kaito and Detective Conan series
> 
> Cassandra Cain - Gotham's second Batgirl and later Black Bat from DC Comic's Batman series.
> 
> Izzy Izumi - the DigiDestined of Knowledge from seasons 1,2 and 8 of the Digimon series.
> 
> Jason "JD" Dean - bad boy psychopath from the Heathers film/musical
> 
> Sophie Devereaux - grifter/con-woman from TNT's Leverage series.
> 
> And how do you guys think I'm handling Lockhart and the other teachers. I hadn't intended to have that end scene where all the teachers basically gathered to hear how he's dealing with the new DADA teacher. It's given me the opportunity to deal with teachers that the books didn't go into detail on, like Sinestra. I looked her up on Harry Potter wikia and found that she probably had gone to school in Africa, so I just ran with it. That's kinda the most fun thing about this series. I get to explore more about the magical world and the teachers. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this newest chapter. Please leave a review to let me know what you think! :)


	4. The Noble House of Flamel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! Didn't think you'd get a new chapter so soon, didja?! I've been on a real Harry Potter kick since I started writing the last chapter and was able to whip this up over the last couple of days. So Happy Halloween and enjoy your treat! ;)

Edward spent a lot of time over the next few days reigning in Lockhart. He couldn’t stop the man from sitting in on his Alchemy classes, but he managed to at least put a little learning into Lockhart’s lessons and still make it relevant to whatever tale the man was regaling his classes with from his books. Edward had even gotten help from Professor Kettleburn who’d procured some creatures for the upper year’s lessons. That man was a godsend to Edward that week and had come to enjoy discussing more about creatures Edward had never heard of. He even sat in on a 5th year Care of Magical Creatures class one afternoon he had a free period.

By the time Saturday rolled around, he felt utterly exhausted and allowed himself to sleep in. He still woke at an early hour, but it was a couple hours later than he usually got up. He decided to forgo his usual routine of stretching (since students were more than likely to be up and about at this hour) and headed straight to breakfast, which he enjoyed with Snape and McGonagall.

“I’ve come up with detentions for Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall informed him halfway through his meal. “I’d like you to supervise Mr. Weasley’s detention, which’ll be polishing the silver in the trophy room. No magic. He needs to do it all by hand.”

“Why bother Edward with this?” Snape asked, frowning, “Filch usually supervises those kinds of detentions.”

“Mr. Filch has other duties, and unfortunately will be cleaning up after Peeves’ last rampage on the third floor corridor,” McGonagall sighed. “It’s lucky we haven’t resumed too many activities up there and can keep that cordoned off from students over the weekend.”

“I’ll tell the Bloody Baron to have a word with Peeves,” Snape scowled.

McGonagall nodded.

“What about Potter?” Edward asked. “You only mentioned Weasley having detention.”

“Potter,” McGonagall sighed - and actually looked a touch regretful, “will be serving his detention with Professor Lockhart, helping him answer his _fan mail_.”

Snape’s scowl twitched, looking as if he was not sure if he should be revolted by the fact Lockhart was wasting time that could be better spent planning his lessons by answering fan mail, or pleased that Harry would have to suffer a whole evening with the man.”

“Let me guess,” Edward drawled. “Lockhart requested handling Potter’s detention personally?”

“Correct,” McGonagall said.

“Well, he’ll be suitably punished,” Edward sighed. “Kid has been avoiding him all week when he can. Won’t even come down to my office if there’s so much as a hint of the man in the vicinity.”

“Why would Potter come to your office?” McGonagall asked, frowning. “I’m his head of house.”

“I sort of became friends with Potter, Weasley, and Granger last year,” Edward said, shrugging. “Sometimes they like to come down and socialize, and other times, it’s to ask questions on homework or something they don’t quite understand from their lessons. I’m only 6 years older than they are, so it’s easier to come to me with these things I suppose.”

McGonagall nodded, looking thoughtful.

“It mostly started because Dumbledore wanted someone to keep an eye on Potter last year,” Snape added. “Edward was the perfect candidate because of his young age.”

“It’s a good thing I did too,” Edward scowled, remembering how the term ended in the Spring.

Snape and McGonagall grimaced.

“Well,” McGonagall sighed, getting up from her seat, “I best find Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter and inform them of their detentions. They’ll be at eight o’clock sharp.”

“Got it,” Edward said, nodding before returning his attention to the rest of his breakfast.

That was when a beautiful white and golden brown barn owl landed in front of Edward and stretched out her leg. Edward immediately recognized the owl as Jeanne, Anja’s owl. Again he deserted his breakfast and set about untying the small parcel attached to the bird’s leg. He then gave Jeanne a piece of bacon to nibble on before she took off while he opened the small box, which turned out to be full of some baked goods that smelled amazing and appeared to still be warm due to a charm cast on the box. It was like they were fresh out of the oven. He recognized croissants, brezel (soft pretzel), and his favorite brötchen (bread roll) that he’d acquired a taste for during his stay in Germany. There was a small letter tied to the box.

 

Edward,

I hope your first week of classes were successful, that you are doing well, and that this reaches you warm and fresh. I miss your company. It’s been a bit lonely around here since the autumn season has started. Most of my older friends have left to pursue new lives and careers in the cities, while all of my younger friends have returned to Beauxbatons Academy. As much as I love my mother and father and our cafe, I envy my friends that have moved away from our small village. But at the same time I can’t imagine myself staying anywhere else. Is that foolish of me? To want to travel, but fear leaving home? It must seem silly to someone as well traveled as yourself. Ignore my melancholy. I’m just fine. But what about you? How are things working out with that new teacher you’re assisting this year? You never told me who it was.

Hoping you are well,

Anja Schlosser

 

Edward smiled as he read the letter and then tucked it away into his cloak’s pocket before taking a bite out of a croissant. It was flaky perfection. That was one thing he missed for sure about Germany - their baked goods.

“A care package, Edward?” Snape drawled. “From whom, I wonder.”

“Her name is Anja. I told you about her when I got back from Germany,” Edward said, before taking another bite.

“The German girl you met while visiting the Flamels,” Snape mused. “Does she write you often?”

“We exchange letters every couple of weeks,” Edward said, shrugging. “She sometimes sends goods from the cafe and bakery she helps her parents run. It’s the best place to eat in the village. Perenelle liked to take me there a lot when I first arrived and then after the Summer Solstice, I started going there most mornings on my own. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she and my Grandfather were trying to set me up with Anja.”

Edward scowled, thinking about that little revelation when he and Hoenheim had been with the Weasleys, Grangers and Harry in Diagon Alley. Now that he thought about it, Perenelle Flamel had been the one to point out who Anja was and tell him about her. Perhaps she thought they’d be a good match. Anja’s last name, Schlosser, could be translated as “metalworker,” and the Flamels knew about Edwards metal limbs and former title as Amestris’ State Alchemist: Fullmetal.

Snape chuckled, bringing Edward out of his thoughts. When he gave his co-worker a curious glance and raised his eyebrow in question the man only shook his head and got up from his seat.

“Have a good morning, Edward. And good luck.”

Good luck with what?

Edward frowned, puzzled, as he watched Snape leave the Great Hall before shrugging and resumed eating the yummy treats Anja had sent him.

 

That evening at eight o’clock, Edward met Ron in the trophy room. He handed the boy a rag, scrub brush and some polish and set the poor boy to work. Not even ten minutes in, the boy suddenly threw up half a dozen slugs of all things.

“What the hell?” Edward cried, hurrying over to the retching boy, magicking the mess away with a vanishing spell.

“‘M ‘kay,” Ron mumbled. “‘S been lettin’ up.”

“Ron, why are you throwing up slugs?” Edward asked.

“Tried to curse Malfoy this mornin’. Backfired,” Ron grunted before getting back to work.

“Why did you try to curse Malfoy?” Edward sighed.

Ron scowled, scrubbing viscously at the school’s Quidditch Cup. “The git called Hermione a ‘Mudblood.’”

Edward frowned. It was clearly an insult, but he’d heard worse. Seeing his expression, Ron obviously felt he needed to explain.

“It’s about the most insulting thing he could think of,” Ron huffed, scowling even more as he moved on to the next item that needed cleaning. “Mudblood’s a really foul name for someone who is muggle born - you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards, like the Malfoys, who think they’re better than everyone else because they’re what people call pureblood. The rest of us know it doesn’t make any difference. I mean, you have purebloods like Neville who can hardly stand a cauldron up the right way, and then you have muggle borns, like Hermione who can cast a spell better than anyone born into magic. Don’t tell her I said that though.”

Edward snorted, shaking his head.

“Anyway, it’s a disgusting thing to call someone a Mudblood,” Ron continued, belching slightly and catching a slug as it slipped out of his mouth.

Edward wrinkled his nose and summoned a pot to set beside Ron.

“Thanks,” the boy mumbled, tossing the slug inside the pot before continuing his rant. “Dirty blood, is what they mean. Common blood. It’s ridiculous. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn’t married muggles we’d’ve died out.”

“I don’t blame you for trying to curse him, Ron,” Edward said placatingly. “I want to curse that brat on the best of days, but it’s probably a good thing the spell rebounded. The brat’s dad is on the school board and he’d likely cause a fuss if you cursed his son. Then you’d have gotten into even more trouble than you are right now for driving your old man’s car to school and crashing it into that tree.”

“‘S What Hagrid said too,” Ron huffed.

“Well, there you go then. Hagrid knows how things work around here a lot better than I do,” Edward sighed. “Now you just have to buckle down and finish your detention.”

Ron scowled again, but got on with it. Edward tried to make the time go a little faster by chatting about more pleasant things with Ron. Most of this was just Edward complaining about having to assist Lockhart and basically teach two subjects. That seemed to lift Ron’s spirits a bit, at least until he missed the pot Edward had summoned for him and threw up slugs on a Special Award for Service to the School. It was taking so long for the poor boy to get the slime off that Edward relented and cleaned that one with magic so that the boy could move on to the next (and thankfully last) few items.

When Ron was finally done cleaning all the silver in the trophy room, Edward released him from his detention and headed down to the dungeons to his own bed.

 

The weeks seemed to fly by after that first long week, and before Edward knew it, it was October and a damp chill had spread over the grounds. Madam Pomfrey was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Edward was one of the few of those fortunate not to catch cold just yet, though there were signs of Poppy’s Pepperup Potion all over the place. The potion cleared up the cold, but left the drinker’s ears smoking for several hours afterward, and it wasn’t uncommon to get a class where half the room was steaming.

Then there was the rain. Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, Sprout’s flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid’s pumpkins swelled to the size of small houses!

Edward did not envy Harry one bit because Oliver Wood, Gryffindor’s Quidditch Team Captain, was just as overzealous as he had been last year about getting regular training sessions in. Edward was immensely relieved that he no longer had to sit in on Gryffindor practice sessions this year, though Snape had suggested that perhaps Edward should sit in on the Slytherin practices to make sure Draco Malfoy was adjusting well to becoming the team’s new seeker. Edward had scowled and told him that he’d only do it if Snape took over assisting Lockhart. The bastard had only laughed, but at least dropped the idea, claiming that he’d only been joking. Mostly.

It was about a week before Halloween, however, when Edward got a letter during breakfast from Hohenheim, informing him that Nickolas and Perenelle Flamel had died in the early hours of the morning. Not even a minute after he’d read that, an owl from the Ministry arrived with it’s own letter. The moment he broke the seal on it, however, the letter fluttered out of his hand and began to talk to him.

“Dear Mr. Elric, We are most grieved to inform you that Lord Nickolas and Lady Perenelle Flamel have passed away. As their heir, we ask that you come in to the Ministry of Magic within the next few days to claim your titles as the new Lord of the Flamel estates and fortune, and Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Flamel. This process may take up to three days to ensure that all of the terms in the late Lord and Lady Flamel’s last will and testament are carried out. You have our greatest sympathies, Miranda Stockholm.”

Edward stared as the letter sealed itself back up and dropped onto his plate in front of him. He wasn’t the only one. The entire Great Hall seemed to be watching him. Edward sighed and tucked both Hohenheim's letter and the Ministry’s into his pocket. He got up from the table without another word and left, heading right for Dumbledore’s office.

“Lemon Drop,” he snapped at the large ugly stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore’s office. The statue sprang to life and jumped aside as the wall split in two, revealing the spiral staircase that moved smoothly upward like an escalator. Once Edward reached the top, the door to the office swung open and revealed the old Headmaster waiting for him, a letter of his own in hand.

“I see Dr. Licht informed you of Nickolas and Perenelle’s deaths as well?” Dumbledore sighed.

“Yes,” Edward huffed. “And the Ministry thought it was a brilliant idea to send me a talking letter, so now the whole school knows I’m their heir. I’m apparently going to need a few days off this week.”

“Take the time you need,” Dumbledore said. “I’m sure Gilderoy can handle his own lessons for a few days. We’ll have to cancel your Alchemy classes, however, while you’re gone. No one here is knowledgeable enough to cover your subject.”

“That’s fine,” Edward sighed. “Do you know when and where their funeral is going to be held?”

“I beleive they wanted to be buried in France, at the Beauxbatons Academy where they met in their youth. The Headmistress there, Olympe Maxime, is a friend of mine and has arranged for them to be put to rest on the school grounds in the park by the fountain that was named after them many centuries ago. As for when the funeral is to be held, it’ll be on Saturday, October 31st in the early morning. We should be able to return to Hogwarts in time for the Halloween feast.”

Edward nodded. “Today’s Monday. I’ll teach classes as usual today, and leave for the Ministry tomorrow,” he decided. “That way I have the rest of the week to sort out whatever it is the Ministry wants from me, and then I can come back here.”

“You may come here tomorrow morning and use the Floo to travel to the Ministry. While you’re away, I’ll make arrangements for our travel to France,” Dumbledore said solemnly. “Bring Dr. Licht back with you from London, so that he may join us as well.”

“Sounds good,” Edward sighed. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome my dear boy,” Dumbledore said, smiling softly. “Have a good day. I shall see you later.”

“Till later, then,” Edward said, nodding at the man before leaving.

 

The rest of the day seemed to pass in one great blur. He managed to get through his two sections of Alchemy that morning without being pestered too much with questions (mostly from Lockhart) about what happened in the Great Hall that morning, and even made it through Lockhart’s afternoon classes without much trouble, though the man had volunteered to teach his Alchemy classes while he was away. Edward made it very clear that Lockhart was not to set foot in his classroom while he was away and that no Alchemy lessons were to be held without his supervision.

That evening he sent notices out during dinner to all of his students so that they knew that there would be no Alchemy classes for the rest of the week just to make sure that Lockhart didn’t undermine him. Snape was very amused by this, but had promised to make sure the moron didn’t break into Edward’s classroom.

Edward was greeted by his new personal house elves, Merribell and Baxter, once again that evening and found that they’d packed him a travel bag for his stay at the Leaky Cauldron while he was in London. He thanked them and let them serve him in whatever manner they saw fit. Both were clearly upset by the loss of their late masters, but were determined to serve Edward with the same loyalty and efficiency that they’d served Nickolas and Perenelle. It was strange to have them waiting on his every need, but knew that he’d have to get used to it. At least he got them to promise that beyond his office, their services were not required beyond his personal rooms while he worked at the school unless he called for them.

The next morning, Edward had breakfast in his office cooked and served to him by Merribell - whom he’d taken to calling Merri - before heading up to Dumbledore’s office once more to use the Floo Network to travel to the Ministry of Magic. Merribell and Baxter apparated in that way elves do and appeared beside him, following along in his shadow as he made his way through the grand lobby of the Ministry. It was by the fountain for Saint Mungo's that he saw Hohenheim waiting for him with a witch in sharp dark green and gold robes.

“Edward,” Hohenheim sighed as he approached.

“Gramps,” Edward grunted.

“Lord Elric,” the witch said, bowing her head. “My name is Miranda Stockholm. If you and Dr. Litch would please follow me we’ll get started.”

Edward nodded, following the woman to a lift that took them several floors up and down a few corridors until they reached a rather roomy and stately office. After they all took their seats, Miss Stockholm summoned mounds upon mounds of paperwork. Edward dreaded the next several hours. There were forms upon forms for him to read and sign that would legalize and register him as the new Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Flamel. Each of the seven estates that the Flamels owned seemed to come with it’s own stack of paperwork and he had to register and sign off on on the fact that he had rehired and contracted ownership of all twenty-five of the Flamel’s house elves, which was another stack of paperwork. And that was only what he had managed to get through by the end of business hours.

The next day was mostly political gibberish. Edward was read in on his new social duties to fill the Flamel’s seat on the Wizengamot. As head of an Ancient and Noble House in the Wizarding world, he automatically got a seat on their high court of law and parliament, as well as a seat on the Council of Wizards. Apparently, Dumbledore was Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, which made Edward feel a bit better about having to take on that kind of responsibility. It became clear very quickly that he wouldn’t be required to attend any sort of trial on a regular basis unless a full trial that required all those who held a seat in the Wizengamot was called, which hadn’t happened since the trials of the Death Eaters after Voldemort was defeated by Harry Potter. There was a lot more explanations about political responsibilities he now held as the Head of the Flamel House, but most of them seemed to be about making appearances at certain political functions.

Thursday, in comparison to the first two days was blessedly short. All Edward had to do was get read in on the number of charities and things that the Flamels had set up automatic donations for and decide whether or not to continue giving funds to those things. Edward signed off on everything, though he was surprised to find that Perenelle had a scholarship fund for a lot of the local villages in Germany and France that helped muggle-borns and poorer magical families send their children to Beauxbatons Academy. Anja’s village, Seestadt, was on the recipient list. After finally getting all of his paperwork sorted (and his personal copies sent back to Hogwarts with Merribell and Baxter), Edward and Hohenheim decided to head to Diagon Alley and visited the Flamel-Litch-Elric vault with another set of the document’s copies.

The Goblins were practically gleeful to accept the transition of power and did in a few minutes what had taken the Ministry 3 days to finalize in sorting out his accounts. All of the Elric, Litch, and Flamel accounts were officially merged, moved to a new vault and registered under the name Elric. Edward and Hohenheim were given new keys and then escorted down to their new vault that lay in the bottommost reaches of the bank’s deep caverns, separated from the others and protected by it’s own pair of dragons. Edward was taught how to calm the beasts and found himself befriending them rather quickly. The dragons seemed to like his metal appendages. Feeling humorous, Edward decided to call one dragon Mustang - Musty for short - and the other Hawkeye when he learned that neither dragon had a name.

Both turned out to be very young dragons. Young enough to sort of imprint on Edward and listen to him give the commands the Goblins had taught him. The dragons hadn’t been introduced to anyone else yet, so they became familiar with both Edward and Hohenheim’s scent. Because the vault was so remote from every other vault, there was a little more room in the cavern for the dragons who had been conditioned to never leave their designated area (though the chains and barrier spells certainly helped keep them contained). The dragons were given live game to hunt in their little area, but other than Edward and Hohenheim, they had no interaction with any other person besides the Goblins and their conditioning. Trespassers were sure to be attacked and mistaken for game. Edward made a mental note to never come down to his vault with anyone else unless he absolutely had to.

After amusing themselves with Musty and Hawk, Edward and Hohenheim finally entered the vault and took in the great expanse of their new fortune. Edward had thought that the Flamel account had been impressive when he’d last been to Gringotts, but now that it was combined with Hohenheim’s fortune, it seemed to stretch on forever with even more artifacts and priceless trinkets and other valuables. There was even a wall of shelving that housed all sorts of documents of some sort. The incredible size and vastness of the combined fortunes was clearly why it had all been moved to this new gigantic vault and required two dragons to guard it.

It wasn’t until he was staring at all that wealth again that Edward realized that it was all his now. He wasn’t sure what it all implied for him. Clearly he could live a comfortable life for the rest of his days and not have to work a full time job again, but that just didn’t seem right to him. He’d always had to work hard for his keep. He’d thrown away his entire childhood to work towards becoming a State Alchemist just so he could get the funding he needed to research the Philosopher’s Stone. And even then he’d had to work hard to prove himself and to keep getting those grants. Now, it seemed like he had quite a life of money and splendor plopped right into his lap.

“Edward? Is everything alright?” Hohenheim asked.

“Yeah,” Edward said softly, eyes moving about the vault that seemed to go on forever with it’s riches. “Just… it’s a lot to take in. I’m not used to having so much at my disposal. I could do virtually anything with my life with this sort of money…”

“True,” Hohenheim mused. “One wouldn’t have to work again with these kinds of funds. You could stop working at the school and work full time on finding a way back to Amestris. On finding a way back to Alphonse.”

“I suppose,” Edward said. “But…”

“But?”

“...I don’t think I could… I don’t want to give up my job at the school,” Edward said. “I… have come to really like it there. Sure, some parts of the job stress me out, but for the most part the students aren’t bad and most of the staff are great. And… I’ve worked so hard to earn the right to teach there. I’m just one more year away from getting a full time teaching license. I don’t want to throw all that away.”

“You don’t have to,” Hohenheim said gently. “I can help you with the research for a way back to Amestris and continue it while you’re away teaching. I’ll look after the estates and all those other things Miss Stockholm has been cramming down our throats. You’re not alone Edward.”

“Thanks…Dad,” Edward whispered.

 

After finishing business at Gringotts, Edward left with a small, but full bag of gold in his pockets and headed for Madam Malkin's Robes Shop to get some formal dress robes that he’d need for the Flamel’s funeral on Saturday and for the formal occasions he knew he’d now need to attend during the winter holidays. Once he got those, he and Hohenheim flooed back to Dumbledore's office. They ate dinner there and Edward returned to his rooms for the night, while Hohenheim was led to a guest suite.

The next morning Merribell and Baxter had his things repacked and ready to go. Edward headed to the Entrance Hall where he met Hohenheim and Dumbledore in the early hours of the morning before most were up and heading to breakfast. From there Dumbledore led them out onto the grounds where they made their ways to the station where the Hogwarts Express dropped students off when they arrived at school at the start of term. Waiting there was Hagrid with a carriage led by a quartet of pegasi.

“Everything ready, Hagrid?” Dumbledore asked as they approached.

“Yessir!” Hagrid said, patting one of the winged horses on its rump. “I had the ‘ouse elves pack ya up a good hearty meal for your trip. Safe travels, you lot.”

“Thank you, Hagrid,” Dumbledore said, nodding before boarding the carriage with Hohenheim following suit.

“Thanks, Hagrid,” Edward sighed, patting the large man on the arm before boarding himself.

He was surprised by how spacious and large the inside of the carriage was. It was about the size of his office and allowed the three of them to seat themselves comfortably. There was a bit of movement a few minutes later, the carriage swaying slightly, before the place settled once more. When Edward peeked out the window, he was surprised to see that they were in the sky, flying at impossible speeds through the air as the countryside below them zipped by. And yet they didn’t feel much of anything in the carriage besides the odd swaying sensation every now and then.

“This carriage and its driver are on loan to us courtesy of Madam Maxime,” Dumbledore informed them. “It’ll take us to the Flamel’s estate in France. Tonight, we’re to be dinner guests at Beauxbaton Academy and tomorrow morning, we’ll attend the funeral, which will be at dawn, and stay for breakfast before we make our return trip to Hogwarts.”

“Why’s the funeral being held at dawn?” Edward asked.

“Because October 31st is a very special and powerful day for our magical community,” Dumbledore explained. “By holding the funeral at dawn, and laying them to rest when the first rays of sun are rising, it is as if we are sending them off from our world with the night, and letting their magic and spirits rise with the sun as a sign of renewal and new life. Nickolas, Perenelle and I are few of the many that believe that death is only the beginning of a brand new adventure in our lives after the old one ends.”

Hohenheim was nodding, so Edward just let it go. It made sense in some ways and who was he to judge the beliefs and practices of others?

Hours later the carriage landed on a cobblestone street and pulled into a round cul-du-sac drive before a white square French villa whose house and grounds were perfectly symmetrical. There was a staircase leading up to a terrace that stretched along the front of the villa. Delicate white rose bushes lined the drive and everything felt rich, clean, romantic and like it belonged in one of Lockhart’s books.

The inside was even grander. The villa was U shaped. Off the foyer to the right was a guest suite at the front of the house (where their driver would be staying), a formal dining area, and a massive kitchen with a breakfast nook took up the rest of that half of the U. On the left was a large office/library at the front of the house, and the rest of the left half of the U was a long stretch of seating and lounge space that was clearly meant for entertaining. There was even a piano in the middle of the room against the wall. Edward wondered if Perenelle had ever played or if it had once belonged to one of her many late granddaughters. Between the two branches of the U was a covered patio and an outdoor plaza with a fountain. Down a set of split stairs, was a large outdoor pool with crystal blue waters that were in bright contrast against the fiery yellows, oranges, and reds of the fall leaves in the trees that surrounded the property.

Opposite the front door in the foyer was a grand staircase that led upstairs to an outdoor terrace that was above the covered patio and an open gallery that circled the foyer from above. One entire third of the upstairs, on the left side of the U was the master suite. The other half on the right of the U was split into two smaller, but still fairly large suites. While Edward, Hohenheim and Dumbledore had been exploring the villa, the house elves maintaining the property had already brought Edward’s things to the master suit, and Hohenheim and Dumbledore’s to the two other upstairs suits.

They shared a lovely lunch together on the patio before they all decided to nap for a few hours before getting ready to head over to Beauxbatons to meet Madam Maxime for dinner. The bed in the master suite was so warm and plush, Edward felt himself just sink right into it. It was like sleeping on a cloud. When he was awoken a few hours later, he was sad to leave it’s warmth and comfort, but dragged himself out of bed and put on one of his new dress robes. He was still getting used to wearing wizard fashion, but deemed that the robes he was currently wearing weren’t too bad.

He frowned as he examined himself in the mirror and took note of his slightly unruly hair. Ramela, one of the house elves, was pleased and excited when he asked her if there was anything she might be able to do to help him primp a bit. He’d never really been to any sort of fancy formal occasion before and he really appreciated the elf’s help as she somehow got his hair to behave. His bangs now hung in a neat curtain around his face, and his braid was redone neatly without a hair out of place. She’d helped straighten his robes and all her little touches somehow made him look and feel a lot more… posh than he was used to.

“You clean up well, Edward,” Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling when Edward rejoined the older men in the foyer.

“I’m lucky to have good help,” Edward said, smiling when he heard the pleased twitterings of his house elves, who - after Ramela had helped him - had been most eager to do their part in getting him ready for dinner. Lumar had shined his shoes, Bella had taught him how to put on cufflinks, Fresco had advised him on French dining customs and etiquette, and many more had pipped up with bits of advice on how to behave like the proper young lord he was now expected to be. It had been very overwhelming at first, but with help and reassurances from his new house elves, Edward felt a bit better about being plunged so abruptly into high society. Who knew that life as the new head of one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world was going to be so different so fast?

The ride to Beauxbatons was very short and brought them to a stunning white chateau surrounded by formal gardens and lawns nestled within the Pyrenees Mountains. Waiting for them on the steps leading up to the large and grand academy was perhaps the biggest woman that Edward had ever seen. She could even give Hagrid a run for his money in the height department. She was no less elegant, however. Despite a big boned structure, there was a grace about her as she descended the steps to greet them while they exited the carriage.

“Ah! Professor Dumbly-dore!” the Headmistress cried with a thick French accent. “Welcome! Welcome to Beauxbatons. And you must be Dr. Litch, and the young Lord Elric.”

Edward inclined his head and took her hand when she offered it and kissed it as one of his elves had advised him to do when he met his dinner host.

Maxime smiled grandly at him as she reclaimed her hand and waved them all inside, lamenting the tragedy of the circumstances that brought them together, but saying that they should enjoy each other’s company all the same in honor of the late Flamels’ memory. Edward was once again stunned by beautiful french architecture as Maxime guided them through the chateau to the dining all, which was just as big - though definitely fancier - than the Great Hall at Hogwarts. It was all well lit and bright and warm as students in their bright blue silk robes stood at attention as Madam Maxime entered the hall and led her three guests to the staff table where four seats remained empty in the middle. The students didn’t sit until their Headmistress was seated and even then they didn’t turn their attention to their meal until after their guests were introduced and a moment of silence was held for the late Flamels.

Edward was surprised to hear that there were a number of guests staying at the academy over night for the funeral, but was quickly able to pick out the visitors seated amongst the students due to their lack of school robes. Madam Maxime explained that several of her former students had returned for the funeral to pay their respects to the family that had granted them the chance to learn at Beauxbatons through the scholarship Perenelle had set up centuries ago. When she asked Edward if he planned on continuing to contribute funds to the school and scholarship, he adamantly agreed, and even asked Dumbledore about starting a similar fund for potential Hogwarts students.

Upon seeing just how many Beauxbatons Academy alumni had returned just to pay their respects to a couple they’d never even met, but had been touched by because of their generosity and wish to give others an opportunity for a good education, he felt as if something had resonated in him. He and Alphonse had never had much after their mother had died and knew what it was like to live off of other people’s charity. They’d honestly been lucky they’d been able to convince Izumi Curtis to take them on as her students and it was due to her good (though slightly sadistic) will and willingness to give them a chance to teach them Alchemy, that Edward became who he was today. Now that he had the money and resources, he was more than willing to do the same. Being a teacher may be described as a thankless job, and there was no doubt that a load of stress that came with it, but thinking about how many lives he could touch, that he was now helping his students in a similar manner that his teacher had helped shape who he was…how the Flamels had helped both current and former students… he felt that it was more than worth it.

His declaration to continue funding Perenelle’s scholarship and create a similar one for Hogwarts was met with thunderous applause from the students and staff.

 

Baxter woke him at the ass crack of dawn the next morning. Edward was even more reluctant to leave his nice warm bed at the villa, but when he remembered why he was being woken up so early, he was more subdue. He took a nice warm shower and allowed the elves to primp him again, this time in a fancier, but more mournful and stifling set of black dress robes he’d bought just for the funeral. Both Dumbledore and Maxime had warned him that due to the public nature of the Flamels funeral, there were going to be reporters about and he was more than likely going to be asked questions about his new status as a Head of an Ancient and Noble House in the wizarding community.

No one knew where Edward had come from or who he was, so there were bound to be tons of questions tossed his way and a lot of people trying to learn more about who he was. Granted, there wasn’t much of anything to dig up on him in this world. And it also wasn’t like he wasn’t used to this sort of attention. A lot of news and speculation had been stirred up when he’d become a State Alchemist at such a young age, and there’d been all sorts of questions about how he got his automail limbs.

When Edward, Dumbledore and Hohenheim had arrived at Beauxbatons this time, they followed a trail of fairy-lights to a park in the faint dawn light where a large golden fountain with statues of a young Perenelle and Nickolas Flamel stood together with water arching gracefully from their upraised wands in the center. Not far from the fountain, there were a pair of caskets surrounded by a growing crowd. Edward and Hohenheim joined Madam Maxime at the front and waited for the funeral to start.

When the sun was beginning to light up the sky with soft blues, purples and pinks, but hadn’t begun to peek over the mountains yet, a witch began to read an epitaph with her wand to her throat. Edward was confused at first because her voice came out a sounding strange, but then he realized that her wand must have been translating her speech. He heard it in English, but if he focused, he could hear her speaking German as well. He even entertained the thought that he was able to hear her speaking in his old Amestrian tongue.

Edward didn’t really follow much of the ceremony since he was so unfamiliar with a lot of their customs (which Dumbledore told him were a mix of French and English). But the highlight of the funeral (if there ever was one for such a mournful occasion) was when the coffins were lowered into a small alcove dug out beneath the fountain and the moment it was sealed, the sun peeked above the mountains for the first time, it’s rays hitting the statue images of Nickolas and Perenelle in such a way, the statues seemed to come alive for a second. The clear water trickling out of the wands looked like golden sparks and in that one short moment, Edward thought he saw the two statues stare lovingly at each other with bright happy smiles before their expressions melted back into the fixed empty stone stares. For a short while, Edward entertained the thought that death really was just another beginning and that there was a life beyond that. Who’s to say that dying wasn’t like passing through another of Truth’s Gates?

After that, a few more words were said, and then the mourners began to break off, many heading up to the castle for breakfast. It was while they were on their way up to the chateau that Edward noticed the stares and murmurs. There were even a few flashes of light as some people took his picture. Edward resisted the urge to scowl.  At least no one was trying to approach him yet. Perhaps it was because he was in the company of two well respected Headmasters. Thankfully only invited guests of the Beauxbatons Academy were allowed to remain on the grounds now that the funeral was over and the reporters were not allowed within the school itself. Though Edward was under no illusion about the fact that a few would be lurking around the grounds hoping to catch him outside when he was leaving.

“Edward!”

Edward startled before he recognized Anja as he entered the dining hall.

“Anja?”

“You two know each other?” Madam Maxime asked.

Anja blushed and curtsied respectfully, greeting the woman that was her former headmistress. Edward was surprised to realize that he recognized quite a few of the people standing around the table Anja had left from the village he’d visited over the summer. Anya’s parents were there and so was Henrik who waved at him with a nervous smile. Even Manson was there. He looked like a nicer bloke now that Edward was seeing him sober.

“I spent a few weeks this last summer visiting Seestadt while staying with Nickolas and Perenelle at their vacation home in Germany. I met Anja during the Summer Solstice festivities,” Edward explained. “We became good friends.”

Anya smiled brightly, eyes shining.

“Perhaps we should allow them to catch up,” Hohenheim suggested.

“Indeed. I know that Edward and this young lady have been trading correspondence for some time, but there’s only so much you can share in a letter,” Dumbledore said.

“Then we shall excuse him and miss out on his company,” Madam Maxine said, gesturing for Edward to join Anja’s table. “I shall see you later, Lord Elric.”

“Yes, and thank you, Madam Maxine,” Edward said, bowing his head as the Headmistress led his elderly companions away to the staff table. He narrowed his eyes when both men looked over their shoulders to wink at him. Meddling old coots.

“It is wonderful to see you again, Edward,” Anja said, regaining his attention. “I did not expect to see you again so soon, but I find myself delighted nonetheless.”

“It’s great to see you too,” Edward said, gesturing for her to lead the way.

She hooked her arm through his with a winning smile. “So you’re a Lord, now, are you?”

“That’s what happens when you find yourself suddenly coming into a large inheritance as head of one of the wizarding world’s most prominent families,” Edward sighed. “I don’t suppose I mentioned before I left Germany this summer, that the Flamels had appointed me their heir.”

“No, you left that out,” Anja said, suddenly looking shy.

“To be honest, I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Edward said, smiling ruefully at her. “I grew up poor and orphaned, and now I’m suddenly a Lord with all this money and all these estates… I can’t wait to get back to Hogwarts, my bratty students, and even that idiot Lockhart.”

Anja laughed gaily as they finally reached her table and took their seats between her parents and Henrick once Madam Maxime was seated. The whole table appeared to have shifted to accommodate one more seat. While greetings went around the table, quite a few seemed intimidated by him now that he was somebody of high society, so Edward tried to relax and act as normal as possible. Most opened back up to him again as breakfast progressed.

“Edward, there is someone here that I want you to meet,” Anja said, indicating a blond girl in a Beauxbatons uniform sitting across from them. “My cousin, Fleur Delacour is in her fifth year here.”

Fleur looked a lot like a younger and more posh version of Anja, who - despite her fetching looks and natural grace - came off as a very country girl-next-door type. Fleur was a high society pure blood and looked more polished. The girls’ mothers were twin sisters who’d both benefitted from Perenelle Flamel’s scholarship program. When the half-Veela twins had graduated from Beauxbatons, Fleur’s mother had married a rich French pureblood with money and status, while Anja’s mother had married a humble small-town half-blood who took over his family’s cafe and bakery.

Despite her posh and snobby behavior, it was clear that Fleur loved and adored Anya and her aunt and uncle. She also seemed to approve of Edward and was very interested about Alchemy when Anja began telling everyone at the table what Edward did and would continue doing for a living in spite of his new status as a Lord.

Breakfast seemed to fly by and before Edward knew it, it was time for him to leave with Dumbledore and his father. He promised Anja that he’d write her soon and let Henrick and Fleur know that it was alright for them to write him as well before leaving. He ignored Hohenheim’s pleased looking grin as they left the chateau and boarded the carriage that would take them back to Hogwarts. They dropped Hohenheim off at the Flamel estate in London before continuing on.

It was mid afternoon when they got back, so Edward returned to his rooms and took a nap until it was time for the feast. Edward was so glad to be out of his stuffy mourning dress robes and back into his usual comfortable attire. He got to the Halloween feast a bit late, so he didn’t get to sit by Snape like he usually did. The only open chair, unfortunately, was next to Lockhart. When Edward slipped into the seat he was glad to see that Lockhart was too busy arguing with Trelawney about the proper way to read tea leaves to notice him. Professor Sinestra was seated on his other side and asked him how his trip went. Professors Burbage and Vector craned around in their seats beside hers to listen to him as well.

It turned out to be a fun feast all told. Hagrids pumpkins were ginormous as they hovered in the air above the great hall. Flocks of bats flittered about the ceiling through rafters and pumpkins, and there were dancing skeletons for entertainment along the walls. Even Lockhart was more tolerable this evening when he realized that Edward was back and eagerly listened to when Edward had to say about the Flamel Villa and Beauxbatons Academy, though he did cut in several times to talk about his own ventures in France.

After dinner, Edward was tired once more and was ready to head back to bed, but there was a sudden ripple of distress that spread amongst the students as he made his way out of the Great Hall with the rest of the staff. Dumbledore then began to move with purpose up the stairs to the second floor. Edward shared a concerned look with Snape and McGonagall and some of the other teachers and hurried to catch up with the headmaster, making their way down the corridor through a large gathering of students at the end of the hall. They could hear Filch yelling about something that they weren’t sure of until they made it through to the front of the crowd.

“ _You!_ ” Filch screeched, pointing an accusing finger at none other than Harry Potter. Why was it alway this kid? “ _You!_ You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her! I’ll kill you! I’ll-”

“ _Argus!_ ” Dumbledore barked before sweeping past Filch and Harry, who also had Ron and Hermione with him, towards a gruesome sight.

Edward felt his unease and concern grow when he saw Mrs. Norris, Filch’s beloved cat, hanging by her tail from a torch bracket. She was as stiff as a board, and her big feline eyes were wide and staring sightless. Above her were foot high words had been daubed on the wall shimmering in bloody looking smears in the light cast by the torch.

 

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

 

Dumbledore carefully detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket before facing the distraught caretaker.

“Come with me, Argus,” he said. “You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger.”

Lockhart nearly bowled Edward over as he stepped forward eagerly.

“My office is nearest, Headmaster - just down the hall - please feel free-”

“Thank you, Gilderoy,” said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd of students and staff parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore. Edward, Snape and McGonagall joined them, dismissing students and harrying them back to their dormitories.

As they entered Lockhart’s darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls. Edward rolled his eyes when he saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight with their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore laid Mrs. Norris on the desk’s polished surface and began to examine her. Edward watched Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchange tense looks as they sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight. He made sure to position himself between them and Filch in case the man decided to go after Harry again.

The tip of Dumbledore’s long crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs. Norris’s fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles as his long fingers gently prodded her. McGonagall was bend almost as close, her eyes narrowed and lips pinched in a thin line. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression that made Edward frown. It was almost as though the man was trying hard not to smile. Edward knew no one other than Filch actually liked Mrs. Norris, but it was kind of mean to be happy about the poor thing being harmed in such a way. Of course there was always the chance (and it actually was most likely because) the man was just happy that Harry had found himself in trouble again. The boy was a trouble magnet.

Edward did his best to ignore Lockhart who was hovering around all of them, making unhelpful and outlandish suggestions that were punctuated by Filch’s dry, racking sobs. The poor man was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs. Norris, his face in his hands. As much as Edward disliked the guy, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He was just a miserable old miser who’s only real friend was his mangy cat. His poor cat that was now lying stiff as a board on Lockhart’s desk under the scrutiny of Dumbledore, who was now muttering strange words for spells Edward did not know under his breath as he tapped Mrs. Norris with his wand. But nothing happened. She continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed by the most sadistic taxidermist ever.

Lockhart was still prattling on. Edward only noticed because the man’s portraits had returned had were all nodding along in agreement as he talked. One had forgotten to remove his hair net.

At last Dumbledore straightened up.

“She’s not dead, Argus,” he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.

“Not dead?” choked Filch, looking through his fingers at his cat. “But why’s she all - all stiff and frozen?”

“She has been Petrified,” said Dumbledore. “But how, I cannot say.”

Lockhart said something, but Edward ignored him like everyone else in favor of watching Filch's reaction.

“Ask _him_!” shrieked Filch, leaning forward to look around Edward so that he could turn his blotched and tearstained eyes towards Harry.

“No second year could have done this,” said Dumbledore firmly. “It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced-”

“He did it, he did it!” Filch spat, his face purpling with rage. “You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found - in my office - he knows I’m a - I’m a-” the man’s face worked horribly. “He knows I’m a Squib!”

“I never _touched_ Mrs. Norris!” Harry cried loudly, looking uncomfortable now that everyone was looking at him. “And I don’t even know what a Squib _is_.”

“Rubbish!” snarled Filch. “He saw my Kwikspell letter!”

Edward frowned, feeling very confused. What the hell was a Squib? Why would anyone care that Filch was one? And what was a Kwikspell letter?

“If I might speak, Headmaster,” said Snape from the shadows, “Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.” There was a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it. “But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn’t he at the Halloween feast?”

Harry, Ron and Hermione all launched into an explanation about going to Nearly Headless Nick’s 500th Deathday party. It was an easy enough story to corroborate.

“But why not join the feast afterward?” asked Snape. “Why go up to that corridor?”

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry.

“Because - because,” Harry stammered under the Potion Master’s intense gaze. “Because we were tired and wanted to go to bed.”

Edward frowned, knowing the boy was lying. Something had happened to draw those three up to that corridor.

“Without any supper?” said Snape, a triumphant smile flickering across his face. “I didn’t think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties.

“We weren’t hungry,” said Ron just before his stomach gave a huge rumble. “Before,” the boy amended. “The stuff down there smelled awful. Put us off our appetite at the time.”

Snape’s smile widened nastily. Edward shot him a look. Snape curbed his glee, but still turned to Dumbledore.

“I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful,” he said. “It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest.”

“Really, Severus,” McGonagall said sharply, giving the man her own disapproving glower. “I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn’t hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong.”

“Innocent until proven guilty, Severus,” Dumbledore said firmly.

Snape scowled and Filch looked furious.

“My cat has been Petrified!” Filch shrieked. “I want to see some punishment!”

“We will be able to cure her, Argus, said Dumbledore patiently. “Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris.”

“I’ll make it,” Lockhart butted in. “I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep-”

“Excuse me,” Snape cut in icily. “But I believe I am the Potions Master at this school.”

There was a very awkward pause as Snape glared daggers at Lockhart.

“You may go,” Dumbledore finally said to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Edward, would you please escort them to their house?”

“Yessir,” Edward said, opening the door for the trio.

The three students exited as quickly as possible and let Edward lead them up a floor to an empty classroom on the third floor where he summoned a plate of sandwiches, a jug and three cups, which he filled with water.

“Alright you three,” Edward huffed, “sit and tell me what the hell happened tonight. What brought you up to the second floor corridor and why does Filch think Harry had it out for his cat?”

Harry launched into an explanation about how he’d run into Nearly Headless Nick at the beginning of the week after a muddy Quidditch practice and got caught tracking in mud by Filch. Filch had apparently brought Harry down to his office to write him up, but had left Harry alone in the office when Peeves dropped some old and valuable vanishing cabinet in the room above the office. While Filch was out after Peeves, Harry had found the Kwikspell letter (that Filch had been going on about a little while ago) advertising how their program could help those who had trouble with casting spells or making potions. When Filch had returned to the office and realized that Harry had seen the letter, he’d thrown Harry out without writing him up. It turned out that good old Nearly Headless Nick had talked Peeves into causing a ruckus to help get Harry out of trouble. In return for his help, Harry had offered to go to Nick’s deathday party. Ron and Hermione had gone with him, but they hadn’t stayed too long. On their way up to catch the rest of the feast, Harry had heard a voice saying it was going to kill someone and had followed it to the second floor where they’d found Mrs. Norris.

Edward sat grimly, watching the trio as they nibbled (or, in Ron’s case, scarfed down) the sandwiches and sipped at the water he’d summoned.

“D’you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?” Harry asked.

“No,” said Ron, without hesitation. “Hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t a good sign, even in the Wizarding world.”

Edward and Hermione shook their heads.

Harry looked nervously around at all three of them.

“You do believe me, don’t you?” he asked.

“‘Course we do,” Ron said quickly. “But, you have to admit it’s weird…”

“I know it’s weird,” said Harry. “The whole thing’s weird. What was that writing on the wall about? The Chamber has been opened… what’s that supposed to mean?”

They looked at Edward, but he could only shrug. “Never heard of any Chamber of Secrets. I’ll have to ask the other staff about it.”

“You know, it rings a sort of bell,” Ron said slowly. “I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once… might’ve been Bill…”

“And what on earth’s a Squib?” Harry asked.

“I’d like to know that too,” Edward said, Hermione nodding.

To their surprise, Ron stifled a snigger.

“Well - it’s not funny really - but it’s Filch,” the redhead said. “A Squib is someone who is born into a Wizarding family but hasn’t got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of Muggleborn wizards, but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch’s trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much. He’s bitter.”

A clock chimed somewhere and Edward sighed, vanishing the leftover food and drink.

“Alright you three. We’d better get you back to your dormitories before McGonagall finds us and decides to give you lot detention and Snape forces me to attend Slytherin Quidditch practices for my punishment.”

Before he left them at the Gryffindor common room, he made Harry promise to tell him if he ever heard that voice again and that they were to come to him if they learned anything about what was going on. He didn’t want a repeat of last year, but it looked like it was going to be another year where he was going to have to keep an eye on those three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you guys think? I kind of like that in this fic I've come a moved more away from the source material and can put in some more original material. I know that a lot of things happened in this chapter, but I really wanted to get to the Halloween chapter in the book and of course to the Chamber of Secrets!
> 
> And the Flamels have passed away and left Edward their vast fortune and shit ton of responsibilities as a society wizard. I want to give credit where it is due. I borrowed a lot of ideas for what Edward's titles and new social responsibilities are from the "Rewritten in Time" series by ScotlandEvander. It's a great series where Draco Malfoy decided to switch sides and travels back in time to befriend Harry Potter and help him defeat Voldemort. If you haven't heard of it before, I really recommend it. I am currently rereading the series (hence how a lot of SE's ideas about Pureblood society worked their way into mine) for the second time since it's completion last year. It's well worth the read if you like redeemed Draco fics.
> 
> Also, Anja showed up again! Yeah, she's becoming a permanent OC character in this verse. Thankfully a lot of you like her and even ship her with Ed! And she's related to Fluer! Yay? Nay? Likey? Don't Likey? :P Also, meddling old men! I have really come to like writing Hohenheim. I have no idea how well I'm portraying his character, but at this point, I feel that he's bound to be OC anyway because of the change I made in his and Edward's relationship.
> 
> But now we have finally gotten into the meat of the fic and now we're going to be dealing with the Chamber of Secrets. We're going to start to see more of Edward interacting with the staff as they try to protect their students, though there will still be plenty of Harry and co. to be seen since Edward is (of course) going to get saddled with keeping an eye on the trouble magnet. I know you guys can't wait to see how that goes, and frankly, neither can I! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this nice chapter, which is actually the 3rd longest chapter I've ever written for this series thus far. Please leave a review and let me know what you liked, what you look forward to, and maybe even suggest a character you guys would like to see Edward interact with more. :)
> 
> Also, little side note and self-plug-in for a new fic I'm also posting today. It's another Harry Potter crossover I'm calling The Scarlet Union; a Harry Potter and Detective Conan/Magic Kaitou crossover where Saguru Hakuba (one of the cameo students from the last chapter) and Akako Koizumi are married muggle-witch couple and rescue Harry Potter from the Dursleys and adopt him into their home. My twist? Akako Koizumi, the Scarlet Witch from the Magic Kaitou series, is a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Think of what that'll imply for Harry, especially when I reach Chamber of Secrets. ;) So if you like Fullmetal Wizard and wanna read what is basically a Harry Potter AU where Harry is raised in a loving family by the only living heir of Slytherin and her muggle husband who confuse and baffle the magical community by defying pureblood social norms, please go check it out!


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